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' 

THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 

# 

THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 

■^^^WAWdV^ 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2010  witli  funding  from 

University  of  Nortli  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/gospelwritinsteeOOpate 


Hppletons' 
trown  ant>  Country 

No.  249 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN   STEEL 


THE  GOSPEL 
WRIT  IN  STEEL 


A   STORY  OF   THE 
AMERICAN  CIFIL    WAR 


BY 

ARTHUR   PATERSON 

AUTHOR    OF    A    DAUGHTER    OF    THE    NEZ    PERCES, 
FATHER  AND  SON,   FOR  FREEDOM'S  SAKE,  ETC. 


NEW    YORK 
APPLETON   AND   COMPANY 

1898 


Copyright,  1897,  1898, 
By  D.    APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 


CHAPTEE   I. 

Saturday,  April  13th,  1861.  The  day  the  Fed- 
eral flag  was  hauled  down  at  Fort  Sumter  under  the 
fire  of  secession  guns:  when  the  citizens  of  the 
Northern  States  of  America — Democrat  and  Eepub- 
lican — roused  to  a  frenzy  of  excitement  by  those  guns, 
called,  with  one  voice,  for  arms:  the  day  the  embers 
of  distrust  and  misunderstanding  between  the  North 
and  the  South,  which  had  been  smouldering  for  half 
a  century,  burst  into  flames — the  day  the  war  began. 

In  no  part  of  the  North  was  there  greater  enthusi- 
asm than  in  the  State  of  Wisconsin.  New  Yorkers 
and  Bostonians  looked  upon  ^Yisconsin  as  a  place 
on  the  borders  of  nowhere;  a  semi-barbarous  land, 
where  the  bowie-knife  and  revolver  settled  all  dis- 
putes, where  youths  grew  beards  at  twenty,  and  maid- 
ens learnt  to  use  a  rifle  in  their  teens.  Nothing  could 
be  further  from  the  truth.  Frontier  simplicity  there 
was  in  plenty,  but  rowdyism  and  lawlessness  did  not 
exist.  Yet  a  Washington  man  would  have  thought 
the  place  archaic.  In  Chippewa,  northern  Wis- 
consin, a  town  of  great  importance  to  its  inhabitants 
and   of   no   mean   reputation   elsewhere,   politicians, 

1 

603181 


2  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

when  free  from  Congress,  drove  the  plough  on  the 
farm,  or  served  behind  the  counter  in  a  store,  and 
not  one  would  have  had  a  chance  of  re-election  had 
he  shown  the  least  disposition  to  shirk  manual  labour 
for  the  plcasanter,  if  somewhat  crooked,  paths  of 
party  wire-pulling.  In  Wisconsin,  in  18G1,  the  low- 
liest of  labourers  addressed  his  richest  neighbour  by 
his  Christian  name,  and  democracy  in  practice  as  in 
principle  was  the  watchword  of  public  and  private 
life.  It  was  true  that  cultivation  of  mind  and  out- 
ward refinement  both  of  manner  and  speech  had  yet 
to  appear  in  the  land — Wisconsin  men  and  women 
had  been  too  busy  for  such  luxuries  hitherto — but 
education  was  recognised  as  a  prime  necessity,  and 
in  Chippewa  a  good  school  had  been  established  out 
of  the  public  funds. 

The  staple  industries  around  Chippewa  and 
throughout  the  larger  portion  of  the  State  were  lum- 
bering and  farming,  and  very  substantial  places  many 
of  these  farms  were.  The  soil  was  good;  the  people, 
thrifty  men  and  strong-^sons  and  grandsons  of  hardy 
frontiersmen  and  pioneers — were  doing  well. 

In  the  sitting-room  of  one  of  these  homesteads, 
on  the  evening  of  April  13th,  an  old  lady  was  wan- 
dering restlessly  to  and  fro  between  the  window  and 
the  fire,  over  which,  on  a  carved  mantelpiece,  she 
•had  placed  a  letter.  A  little  bent  old  lad}^,  slight 
and  frail,  with  pale  and  sickly  face,  yet  with  keen 
bright  eyes,  firm  chin  and  mobile  lips,  in  all  of  which 
lay  a  force  and  vitality  which  belied  her  feebleness  of 
body.  This  evening,  as  the  shadows  lengthened  and 
rays  of  light  striking  through  the  window  panes,  like 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  3 

long  red  fingers,  showed  that  the  sun  was  near  its  set- 
ting, Mrs.  Burletson's  face  expressed  more  tlian  its 
usual  strength  of  purpose,  and  Maria,  the  help  of  the 
house,  entering  at  this  moment  to  lay  the  supper,  de- 
cided to  keep  within  her  own  hreast  certain  troubles 
that  weighed  heavily  upon  her  tongue. 

"  John  is  late,  mem,  I'm  thinking." 

"  You  are  wrong,  'Eia.  It  wants  two  minutes 
to  the  hour.  Yet  he  will  be  late,  likely.  No  man 
can  think  of  bits  of  time  when  lambs  are  coming." 

But  Maria  heard  her  sigh,  and,  being  a  sympa- 
thetic soul,  began  to  grumble — 

"  I  know  what  is  in  your  mind — that  letter. 
Good  sakes,  why  didn't  you  let  me  run  with  it  when 
it  came  an  hour  ago?     I  will  go  now." 

"  You  will  go  on  with  your  work.  I  do  not  wish 
John  should  see  it  till  he  comes  in.  Nothing  puts 
him  about  so  much  as  being  fussed  in  work  hours." 

"  Your  fretting  will  wear  him  more  than  all — you 
know  it  will." 

"  I  know  my  own  mind,  ^Eia.  Have  you  finished 
laying  table?  " 

"  I  guess  so." 

"  Then  your  eyes  are  asleep,  my  girl.  ISTo  spoon 
for  the  mustard,  no  fork  for  John,  a  little  knife  for 
the  meat.  Maria,  there  are  some  people  who  will 
never  get  through  life  until  they  quit  minding  other 
folk's  business.  There — I  knew  he'd  not  be  late. 
Dish  up  smartly,  girl.     John  is  coming  now." 

A  man  was  quietly  walking  toward  the  house,  the 
after  glow  of  the  sunset  playing  upon  his  worn  work- 
a-day  clothes  and  old  slouch  hat,  and  glorifying  the 


4  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

outlines  of  his  plain,  hard-featured  face.  John  Bur- 
letson  was  five-and-twenty  years  old,  but  looked 
thirty.  Unlike  his  mother,  his  prevailing  expression 
was  gentleness  and  good  temper.  His  eyes  were  mild 
and  pleasant,  his  mouth  thoughtful  and  firm.  In 
outline,  the  face  was  squ.are  and  strongly  made,  but  it 
lacked  the  vivacity  and  quick  changes  which  were 
so  characteristic  of  Mrs.  Burletson.  An  awkward 
young  man,  with  arms  inclined  to  be  too  long,  and 
round  shoulders,  broad  out  of  proportion  to  his 
height,  large  hands  and  feet,  a  man  who  walked  with 
the  careless  gait  of  one  accustomed  to  tramp  over 
ploughed  fields,  and  who  rarely  troubled  himself 
concerning  his  carriage  or  dress. 

"  I'm  behind,  mother." 

They  met  at  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Just  one  minute,  my  son,  if  'Eia's  time  is  true." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  smiling;  "  'twas  the  old 
ewe;  as  usual,  she  reckoned  to  see  Jim  and  me 
whipped  before  she'd  get  under  cover;  it  came  to  car- 
rying her  at  last." 

He  sat  down  on  a  chair  near  the  door,  and  stooped 
to  take  off  his  boots. 

"  Don't  do  that  yet,  sonny.  Here's  a  letter  from 
Luke." 

He  looked  up,  and  she  saw  an  eager  light  in  his 
eyes,  but  he  did  not  take  the  note. 

"  I'll  see  to  it  presently." 

"  I  have  a  notion  you  are  wanted  in  town — at 
once." 

He  had  pulled  off  one  boot  by  this  time,  and  now 
began  upon  the  other. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  5 

"  That  may  be,  but  this  mud  won't  agree  with 
'Eia's  clean  boards  or  your  carpet.  Keep  the  letter 
for  me  till  I'm  clean.     I  will  be  round  in  two  winks." 

He  marched  off  to  his  bedroom  in  Ms  stockings, 
returning  clad  in  a  better  coat.  It  was  a  habit  of 
John  Burletson's  never  to  sit  down  with  his  mother 
to  the  evening  meal  in  his  working  clothes. 

"  Now  let  me  see  the  news."  As  he  took  the  let- 
ter from  her  he  kissed  her  on  the  cheek,  and  found  it 
wet  with  tears.  Then  he  read  the  note,  and  Mrs. 
Burletson  heard  him  draw  a  short  sharp  breath. 

"  It  has  come  at  last.  Sumter's  taken.  War  is 
declared." 

"They  want  you,  John?" 

But  he  did  not  answer  her. 

"  How  smart  and  deep  the  Southerners  have 
played  their  game!  No  noise,  no  dust.  They  seced-^ 
ed,  crying,  '  Let  us  go  in  peace,'  and  then,  while  we, 
trusting  to  that,  stand  open-mouthed  wondering, 
doing  nothing,  guarding  nothing,  they  step  right  in 
and  strike;  tear  down  the  flag,  take  our  strongest  fort. 
President  Buchanan  will  have  a  heavy  day  of  reckon- 
ing, if  we  ever  make  him  pay  his  dues." 

"  Does  Luke  ask  your  coimscl  ?  " 

Her  mind  took  in  little  of  the  question  in  its 
general  bearing.  She  was  only  thinking  of  him. 
Her  words  brought  John  back  with  a  start. 

"  Well — I  guess  he  wants  to  talk.  Every  one 
talks  these  days.  What  we  need  is  a  President  and 
Government  who'll  act.  This  new  man,  Abraham 
Lincoln,  is  our  only  hope.  If  he  don't  go  forward 
now,  the  whole  natton  will  break  up  into  bits." 


6  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"That  is  what  the  seceshers  want,  John?" 

She  was  falling  into  his  mood;  but  her  eyes  were 
watching  his  face  anxiously,  and  he  knew  it,  though 
he  did  not  look  at  her,  and  was  not  thinking  of  him- 
self. 

"  They  will  stand  a  rare  chance,  mother,  of  get- 
ting all  they  wish  if  Lincoln  does  not  bite  back  quick- 
ly and  hard." 

"  But  the  North  is  a  wide  place  to  conquer,  son." 

"  Washington  is  on  the  Potomac  Eiver.  If  Vir- 
ginia secedes,  and  I  think  she  will  now,  spite  of  all 
they  say,  the  seceshers  will  only  be  one  day's  march 
from  our  capital.  Supposing  them  to  be  smart — and 
Virginians  will  make  some  of  the  best  fighting-men 
in  America.  I  would  not  be  surprised  to  hear  next 
that  the  Government,  President  Lincoln,  and  all, 
were  in  their  hands.  Where  would  we  be  then?  I 
will  show  you  how  this  idea  comes  to  me." 

He  went  to  a  writing-desk  in  an  adjoining  room, 
took  out  a  roll  of  maps  from  a  pigeon-hole,  and 
spread  one  out  upon  the  table  where  the  supper  was 
fast  growing  cold. 

"  Look,  mother,  I  drew  this  map  of  the  border  a 
week  since.  It  is  very  badly  done,  but  it  is  correct,  so 
far.  See  that  black  spot.  That  is  Richmond, 
Virginia's  capital;  and  here  is  Harper's  Ferry,  where 
the  great  arsenal  lies  with  stores  of  ammunition  and 
weapons  for  two  armies  like  enough,  and  all  on 
Southern  ground.  I  take  it  the  secession  folk  will 
jump  the  place — or  have  done  before  this.  From 
there  they  will  march  north,  well-equipped,  across 
the  Potomac,  before  Long  Bridge  "is  fortified,  and  on 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL,  7 

to  Washington.  There  is  nothing  to  stop  them, 
unless  the  Government  is  awake,  and  after  what  we 
have  seen  so  far  under  Buchanan,  things  are  not 
hopeful.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 

Mrs.  Burletson  laughed  softly,  and  patted  her 
son's  broad  shoulder. 

"  I  say  if  this  man  here  was  secesh,  I  would  be 
sorry  for  the  North,  but  as  he  is  not,  spite  of  the 
arms  and  President  Buchanan  and  all,  I  do  not  fear 
for  the  Union  while  it  has  such  men  as  you.  Though 
how  you  get  to  know  what  you  do,  John,  is  wonder- 
ful to  me.     There — I  said  it  before." 

John  rolled  up  his  map. 

"  It  is  easy  to  get  books  and  read  them.  But  I 
am  keeping  supper  standing.  Mother,  you  should 
cheek  me  when  I  forget  you  so." 

"  It  takes  me  all  my  time  to  make  you  think  of 
aught  else,  my  dear.  You  will  now  be  off  to  Luke. 
He  expects  you  to  supper." 

John  sat  down  and  sharpened  the  carving-knife. 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  you  are  going  to  eat  alone. 
What  is  this?  Beef.  'Eia  has  cooked  it  well  to- 
night.    You  must  have  a  slice." 

"  I  could  not  eat  meat  this  time  of  day," 

"  You  had  none  at  noon,  and  the  doctor  said 
nourishment  was  what  you  needed.  Try  it,  mother, 
or  I  will  leave  mine  alone,  and  I  want  my  steak  bad." 

She  laughed  and  yielded,  and  for  a  few  minutes 
they  eat  silently,  John  absent  and  thoughtful,  his 
mother  watching  him. 

"John,"  she  said  suddenly,  ''what  will  folk  do 
about  this?" 


8  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  Volunteer — I  should  guess.  The  militia  will 
be  called  out,  but  that  will  not  be  enough — not  near 
enough." 

He  frowned  as  he  spoke,  and  his  mother's  lips 
tightened  as  if  in  pain. 

"  You  mean  that  men — men  working  in  farms 
and  elsewhere — would  ^list  and  serve  in  the  army. 
Aye,  they  will  do  so,  the  brave  ones.  And  it  is  right " 
— her  voice  deepened  in  tone  and  strength — "  the 
men  who  hesitated  for  the  sake  of  those  they  M^ould 
leave,  when  the  country  needed  they  should  go, 
would  be  cowards,  and  none  of  their  friends  would 
hold  them  back.  I  hoj)e  that  all  the  boys  will  volun- 
teer round  here." 

"  You  may  depend  on  that,"  he  said,  thrusting 
his  plate  from  him,  though  it  was  still  half  full,  and 
rising  from  the  table.  "  I  guarantee  half  the  town 
will  be  at  Luke's  when  I  get  down.  You  will  not 
wait  for  me,  mother.  Promise  me  that.  I  do  not 
know — I  can't  rightly  tell — when  I  may  be  back. 
And  it  would  worry  me  so  tp  feel  you  were  breaking 
your  rest.  Promise  you'll  not  sit  up  past  ten 
o'clock." 

"  I  promise  to  go  to  bed,  John,  when  I  feel  like 
it.  I  will  not  stay  up  a  moment  after  that.  I  can- 
not say  fairer,  dear.  Mebbe  you  will  not  get  home 
at  all  to-night.  Why  should  you?  Yet,  if  it  could 
be  so  fixed,  will  you  come?  Of  course  they  will  want 
you  there,  your  place  is  not  at  home  these  times.  To- 
morrow I  hope  you  will  be  on  the  way  to  Washington. 
But,  to-night — well,  never  mind." 

Her  voice  broke  at  the  last,  and  she  paused  to 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  9 

steady  it.     The  absent  look  left  John's  face  in  an 
instant,  and  he  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"Mother,  what  is  to  do  with  you?  I  do  believe 
you  think  they'll  give  me  command  of  a  regiment  at- 
least.  Bless  you,  they  will  not  want  such  as  me,  ex- 
cept to  carry  a  musket  when  the  time  comes.  There 
are  more  of  my  kind,  and  better,  in  the  jSTorth  than 
blackberries  on  the  bushes.  If  I  go — and  I  have  not 
thought  of  that  yet — it  will  be  as  a  private,  when  I 
have  learnt  to  shoot.  Pshaw!  what  is  in  your  brain, 
mumsey  mine?     Come — come." 

He  kissed  her  very  tenderly,  and  the  tears  that 
were  gathering  slowly  in  her  eyes  did  not  fall.  She 
raised  her  head  with  a  proud  smile. 

"  My  brain  is  old,  sonny,  and  I  am  nigh  worn  out. 
But  I  am  sharjD  enough  yet  to  tell  what  lies  in  you. 
Go  to  the  war  that  is  coming  how  you  will,  before  it 
ends,  if  it  don't  fizzle  out  in  a  month  or  two,  you  will 
be  taking  a  share  you  little  think  now.  Look  what 
our  new  President  was  at  your  age.  Look  what  he  is 
now.  The  future  is  yours,  and  though  I  will  never 
see  it,  my  son  will  make  his  mark  upon  it  all.  You 
need  the  opportunity,  John,  to  be  forced  upon  you. 
You  are  slow  to  move  when  it  is  to  your  own  ad- 
vantage. Too  slow,  which  is  one  of  your  faults. 
But  I  believe  the  time  has  come  when  you  must  show 
to  others  the  worth  that  your  old  mother  knows. 
Now  be  off  with  you  to  Luke's;  don't  stay  kissin' 
me." 

She  gave  him  a  gentle  push,  then  solemnly  blessed 
him.     As  he  reached  the  door,  she  cried  out — 

"  Mind  you  give  Jean  my  love,  and  tell  her  to 


10  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

look  up  to  see  me  early  to-morrow.  There  will  be  a 
deal  to  talk  about,  I  fancy,  and  she  can  tell  me  all  the 
news." 

John  promised,  and  Mrs.  Burletson  was  alone. 
She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  It  was  a 
dark  night,  but  she  listened,  and  presently  heard  the 
beat  of  horse's  hoofs  upon  the  road. 

"  He  is  loping,"  she  muttered  to  herself.  "  Lo- 
ping hard  to  the  war.  And  he  will  be  the  first  in  the 
fight,  will  John.  They  will  make  him  a  captain,  and 
it  is  those  who  lead  who  are  killed.     Merciful  Lord!  " 

She  shuddered,  and  shut  the  window. 

"  How  many  are  saying  the  same  to-night?  Moth- 
ers, sisters,  wives.  I  may  not  complain.  But  it  is 
hard.  All  his  life  I  have  shared  his  troubles,  and 
given  him  what  I  had;  and  every  year  he  has  grown 
more  precious,  being  a  lad  as  he  is.  And  now  when 
I  am  old,  God  sends  him  away  to  this  war,  and  I  will 
die  and  never  see  him  again." 

The  door  opened  behind  her,  and  Maria  came 
with  the  tray  to  clear  away  the  things. 

"  'Eia,"  cried  Mrs.  Burletson,  severely,  "  you've 
been  crying." 

Maria  snifi^ed  and  tried  to  answer,  then  broke 
down  altogether  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"  I  can't  hold  it  in  any  longer.  It's  that  Jim 
Hallet  of  mine,  and  what  he's  gone  and  done.  We 
was  to  have  been  married  come  June — you  know  it — 
and  now  this  very  day  he's  off  to  town  in  his  best 
(ilo'ee,  to  volunteer  for  the  war.  I  wouldn't  mind 
that  with  some  men,  but  Jim's  bound  to  get  shot — 
jest  bound  to,  he's  so  big.     Let  alone  he's  being  too 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  H 

tender-hearted  to  shoot  at  any  human  critter.  Oh, 
mem,  the  men  has  gone  mad,  I  do  believe,  an'  all  for 
notliing  at  all.  But  there,  when  it's  a  fight  we  wom- 
en may  go  and  take  a  back  seat  for  ever,  an'  stay 
there." 

Maria,  being  very  breathless,  stopped  at  this  point, 
and  expected  a  severe  reprimand,  for  she  knew  that 
her  mistress  hated  display  of  emotion.  To  the  girl's 
astonishment,  Mrs.  Burletson  wiped  her  own  eyes 
and  kissed  her. 

"  My  dear,  go,  clear  these  dishes  away,  then  bring 
your  work  and  sit  in  this  room  with  me.  You  are 
not  the  only  woman,  'Kia,  by  many,  young  and  old, 
to  curse  the  war  to-night." 


CHAPTEE   II. 

Chippewa  town  was  full  to  overflowing  when 
John  Burletson  rode  in  at  nine  o'clock.  Men  and 
women  walked  to  and  fro  in  restless  excitement,  or 
stood  about  in  groups  listening  to  some  eager  talker 
who  thought  he  had  important  news  to  tell.  Scraps 
of  startling  intelligence  caught  John's  ears  as  he 
steered  his  impatient  horse  among  the  crowd,  and 
many  of  the  people  hailed  him  by  name,  and  called 
upon  him  to  stop.  But  he  said  he  had  not  time,  and 
pressed  on  at  the  best  speed  he  might  into  the  centre 
of  the  town,  where  stood  Luke  Selby's  store,  the 
largest  building  in  the  place. 

In  country  towns  in  the  Western  States  it  is  to  the 
store — when  the  store-keeper  knows  his  business — 
that  every  one  goes  for  reliable  news  during  crises  in 
public  affairs.  There  will  be  found  the  best  minds 
and  the  shrewdest  heads  in  the  district.  In  Chippe- 
wa this  was  more  the  case  than  elsewhere,  for  Luke 
Selby  knew  his  business  well,  and  no  town  meeting, 
religious,  social,  or  political,  was  complete  without 
his  presence,  generally  as  chairman.  All  news,  from 
the  birth  of  the  Senator's  last  baby  to  a  telegram 
from  Washington,  reached  Luke  before  it  came  to  any 
other  man.  No  action  affecting  the  interests  of  Chip- 
13 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  13 

pewa  was  ever  taken  without  a  word,  or  many  words, 
from  him.  To-night  his  store  was  lighted  up  and 
crammed  from  end  to  end  with  a  seething  mass  of 
men.  No  goods  were  to  he  seen.  Every  barrel 
and  keg  and  box  formed  the  seat  of  one  or  more 
persons.  There  was  not  standing  room  for  a  fly 
upon  his  counters;  and  the  body  of  the  store, 
cleared  of  all  goods,  was  black  with  people,  who  clus- 
tered like  a  swarm  of  disturbed  bees  upon  the  plat- 
form outside,  and  overflowed  into  the  street  itself. 
Everywhere  arose  the  noise  and  confusion  of  tongues, 
for  an  American  crowd — until  the  speech-making 
begins — is  the  least  silent  of  human  congregations; 
and  all  talked  at  once,  discussing,  haranguing,  proph- 
esying, arguing.  John,  after  hitching  his  horse  to 
a  post  behind  the  store,  wondered,  as  he  began  to 
make  his  way  slowly  up  the  platform  steps,  whether 
he  would  ever  get  to  Luke  at  all.  But  no  sooner  was 
his  face  seen  by  the  crowd  than  his  name  was  passed 
from  lip  to  lip,  speedily  reaching  the  store-keeper's 
ears  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  Luke  Selby  was 
seated  at  a  table  on  a  small  raised  platform.  He  was 
in  his  shirt-sleeves,  writing  down  a  list  of  names  upon 
a  sheet  of  paper.  When  he  heard  of  John's  arrival 
he  threw  down  his  pen  with  a  muttered  "  At  last," 
stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and  shouted 
with  a  voice  that  resounded  above  all  the  babel  of 
tongues, 

"  John — John  Burletson,  come  up  here!     ]\Iake 

room  for  him,  good  folk,  make  room!     You  boys  of 

the    army,    straighten    out!      'Tention:    eyes    right: 

dress:  sa-lute! "  the  words — spoken  on  the  spur  of 

2 


14  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

the  moment — coming  with  the  full  force  of  his  lungs. 
He  was  answered  by  a  cheer,  and  then,  with  one  of 
those  common  impulses  which  seize  a  crowd  at  such 
times,  every  man  stepped  closer  to  his  neighbour,  a 
narrow  lane  was  made  from  the  door  to  the  platform, 
and  John,  to  liis  unspeakable  astonishment,  found 
himself  walking  past  neighbours  and  friends  as  if 
he  were  a  public  character.  Luke  wrung  him  by  the 
hand  and  pulled  him  on  to  the  platform,  while  the 
crowd  fell  silent,  expecting  a  speech. 

"  Welcome,  dear  friend,  right  welcome!  "  cried 
the  store-keeper,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  I  have  to  inform 
you,  John,  that  you  have  been  elected  to  the  com- 
mand of  the  first  company  of  the  Chippewa  volun- 
teers— Soldiers  " — turning  to  the  crowd — "  give 
Captain  John  P.  Burletson  three  big  thunderin' 
cheers." 

He  slapped  John  on  the  shoulder,  and  then  led 
the  shouts  which  followed. 

John  stood  dazed  and  bewildered.  When  the 
cheering  was  over,  and  the  crowd  began  to  talk  again, 
he  roused  himself. 

"  Now,  tell  me  wliat  this  means." 

"  You  saw  my  letter?  " 

"Well?" 

"Eead  this." 

It  was  a  telegram  from  the  Governor  of  Wisconsin 
calling  for  volunteers. 

Luke  watched  John  keenly,  and  smiled  as  he  saw 
the  round  shoulders  straighten  and  the  strong  face 
flush. 

"Lincoln's  awake,  then?" 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  15 

"  Seems  so;  and  you  were  right — we  just  as 
wrong.     I  don't  forget  that  now." 

He  referred  to  arguments  in  the  past,  when  John, 
who  had  prophesied  war,  had  stood  alone  against  all 
his  friends. 

"How  do  the  Democrats  shape?" 

"  On  our  side,  every  one.  Even  old  Enos  Haines, 
who  has  three  brothers  down  South,  is  tearing  mad 
to  fight.  There  are  no  Democrats  here.  We're  all 
Union  men.  Let  me  tell  you,  boy,  this  is  going  to 
be  the  biggest  fighting  boom  around  the  North  the 
world  has  ever  seen.  We  will  make  the  skies  crack 
presently  if  secession  don't  climb  down.  We  mean 
business.  No  flather  or  froth  about  us.  Now  come 
inside  and  see  the  folk,  then  step  back  here  with  me 
and  give  the  boys  your  mind  upon  this  thing." 

He  descended  two  steps,  opened  a  door,  and  push- 
ing John  in  before  him,  shut  the  door  again,  and 
the  strident  babel  of  excited  voices  sank  to  a  distant 
hum. 

The  room  they  were  in  was  small  and  bare,  lit- 
tered with  bills  and  invoices,  packets  of  paper,  pens 
and  ink,  and  blotting  pads.  The  furniture  was  a 
table,  a  safe,  a  rusty  stove,  and  some  wooden  chairs, 
now  occupied  by  ladies,  the  wives  of  Chippewa's 
principal  citizens.  There  was  a  lamp  on  the  table, 
by  the  light  of  which  a  girl  had  been  reading  aloud- 
from  a  newspaper.  She  was  now  talking  in  quick, 
excited  tones,  so  intent  upon  her  subject  that  she  did 
not  notice  at  first  the  entrance  of  the  men. 

"  Oh,  it  was  just  heroic,"  she  was  saying,  "  hold- 
ing that  fort  so  many  hours,  without  a  chance  of  vie- 


16  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL. 

tory.  Those  soldiers  are  men  indeed.  It  may  seem 
cruel  to  say  so,  but  I  do  believe  we  want  a  war.  Our 
men  grub  all  their  days  for  dollars — dollars — dollars. 
Justice  and  freedom  and  right  they  don't  count  worth 
a  cent.  It  is  always  '  We  must  not  do  this,  or  say 
that,  for  fear  the  South  might  take  offence,  and 
ruin  trade; '  or  '  Slavery  may  be  a  disgrace,  but  to 
interfere  with  it  won't  pay; '  and  so  on,  and  so  on, 
until  I  have  felt  just  sick  with  the  shame  of  it  all. 
Why,  father,  is  that  you?  Good-evening,  John.  Fa- 
ther, tell  me  what  that  cheering  meant.  Is  there 
more  news  ?  " 

"  It  was  our  boys  greeting  their  captain,  here.  He 
is  wishful  for  your  congratulations." 

He  laughed  cheerfully.     John  did  not  laugh. 

"  If  this  is  some  joke  you  are  playing  upon  me, 
Luke,  I  guess  it  is  rather  a  tough  one." 

"  Joke?  Wait  till  you  hear  me  call  the  roll  of 
names  before  I  telegraph  to  Washington.  Joke?  I 
tell  ye,  friend,  I  have  had  no  supper — no,  not  a  bite  or 
sup  since  lunch.  All  afternoon  the  boys  have  been 
piling  in  to  have  their  names  put  down.  We  had  a 
full  company  by  six  o'clock,  and  then  I  stopped  them, 
and  made  them  elect  officers.  You  came  first.  Seth 
Cotton  was  mentioned,  and  he'll  be  your  lieutenant; 
but  you  were  ahead  by  a  mile.  Naturally  too;  every 
one  knows,  now,  about  your  maps  and  military  books, 
and  how  well  you  have  studied  out  this  thing,  while 
the  rest  of  us  stood  and  talked.  I  am  pleased,  real 
pleased  it  should  be  so.  'Tain't  every  man,  friend, 
who  can  Avin  the  votes  of  our  Wisconsin  boys." 

"  And  I  am  delighted,  John.     It  is  magnificent. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  17 

I  can  hardly  believe  it  to  be  true  yet.  But  I  know  it 
is  just  right." 

Jean  Selby  impulsively  held  out  her  hand  to  him; 
a  small,  slight  hand,  quite  hidden  from  view  when 
John's  fingers  closed  upon  it — hungrily,  eagerly. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  say  at  all,"  he  rejoined. 
"  As  for  making  a  speech,  I  could  not  if  I  were  to  be 
shot  for  refusing.  I  never  dreamt  of  this,  and  will 
have  to  think  out  a  power  of  things  before  I  get  my 
mind  quite  straight.  It  seems  to  me,  you  know,"  he 
added  slowly,  looking  round  at  them  with  a  quaint, 
dry  smile,  "  as  if  the  news  to-day  had  got  into  the 
heads  of  some  of  you  until  small  men  like  me  look 
twice  their  natural  size." 

Luke  Selby  laughed  again,  impatiently. 

"  Have  done,  man,  have  done !  We  know  you, 
John,  better  than  you  know  yourself.  There  is  a 
deep,  'cute  brain  laying  away  down  in  your  thick 
head.  We  know  that  of  all  men  hereabouts  you  will 
be  the  first  to  give  your  best  to  the  country  and  its 
cause.  'Tis  hard  on  the  old  lady  to  lose  ye,  but 
she'll  be  prouder  than  a  queen  when  she  hears  that 
you've  been  chosen  by  the  boys.  Now  we  must  get 
back,  I  hear  stampin'.  The  folk  are  impatient. 
Hello!  here's  Seth  to  tell  us." 

The  door  had  opened  smartly,  and  a  young  man 
came  in,  flushed  and  breathless.  He  was  taller  than 
John,  of  neat  and  shapely  figure,  dressed  in  dark 
clothes  of  city  cut;  a  graceful,  handsome  fellow;  his 
face  full  of  spirit,  with  expressive  brown  eyes  and 
delicate  features.  He  spoke  to  Luke,  but  his  eyes 
sought  Jean's  face  and  rested  there. 


18  THE  GOSPEL   WIUT  IN  STEEL. 

"  You  must  come,  sir;  the  boys  are  calling  for 
you,  and  some  are  asking  if  John  has  run  away.  I 
promised  to  take  him  to  them,  dead  or  alive.  How 
do  you  find  yourself,  captain  ?  " 

*■•  Very  weak  in  the  works,  Seth.  You  must  speak 
for  both  of  us." 

"  Pshaw!  My  turn  don't  come  till  after  yours. 
You  rank  me  here,  man,  every  time." 

He  laughed,  but  spoke  with  a  bitter  meaning,  and 
his  eyes  swept  from  Jean's  flushed  face  to  John's  pale 
one  with  quick  inquiry  and  ill-suppressed  chagrin. 

"  Come  out,  Johnny,"  cried  Luke,  thrusting  a 
compelling  hand  through  John's  arm,  and  pressing 
toward  the  door.  "  You  must  go  through  this  busi- 
ness.    Do  it  your  own  way,  but  do  it.     Come." 

John,  cornered  thus,  yielded  with  a  sigh,  while 
the  others  followed,  Seth  at  Jean's  side. 

They  made  a  handsome  pair,  as  more  than  one  of 
the  ladies  behind  remarked.  Jean  was  a  stately  maid- 
en, nearly  as  tall  as  her  companion.  Her  face,  serious 
in  repose,  too  serious  for  a  girl  of  twenty,  looked  its 
best  to-night:  a  sweet  and  earnest  face  with  deep  blue 
eyes,  a  marvellous  complexion,  and  a  crown  of  abun- 
dant golden  hair. 

A  yell  of  applause  greeted  the  little  party  as  it 
appeared  on  the  platform,  dropping  quickly  to  silence 
as  Luke  held  up  his  hand. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  army  of  the  Union,  John  Bur- 
letson,  whom  you  have  honoured  by  electing  your 
captain,  is  going  to  speak  to  you.  He  didn't  want  to, 
but  I  have  brought  him  here  because  I  knew  you 
wished  to  hear  him.     Was  I  right?  " 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  19 

A  shout  that  shook  the  roof;  and  a  chorus  of 
"  ayes,"  amid  which  Luke  moved  to  one  side,  leaving 
John  in  his  place. 

The  contrast  between  the  men  was  a  striking  one, 
and  the  audience,  quick  to  notice  such  things,  saw  it 
at  once  and  laughed.  Luke  Selby  was  a  man  of 
presence,  six  feet  high  and  broad  in  proportion,  with 
confident  commanding  manner  and  a  deep  rich  voice. 
It  was  said  that  his  ready  smile  and  laugh  were  too 
frequently  indulged  in;  that  his  eyes  were  frosty  and 
calculating;  his  speech  hot  or  cold,  according  to  the 
temperament  of  those  he  addressed;  in  short,  that  he 
handled  men  as  he  handled  goods — for  profit.  But 
whatever  men  hinted  in  private,  in  public  affairs 
every  one  acknowledged  Luke  Selby's  authority,  and 
as  a  platform  orator  he  stood  supreme.  John,  stand- 
ing beside  him,  looked  the  embodiment  of  awkward 
diffidence.  His  large  head  was  thrust  forward  be- 
tween his  clumsy  shoulders  as  he  nervously  clasped 
and  unclasped  his  hands  behind  his  back,  trying  to 
collect  his  wits,  which  were  scattered  to  the  four  winds 
by  the  consciousness  that  he  had  never  made  a  speech 
before  in  public,  and  that  he  was  placed  in  his  present 
position  by  a  man  whose  motives  he  thoroughly  dis- 
trusted. There  was,  however,  one  saving  clause  to 
all  this — John  was  in  earnest,  no  man  in  all  that  en- 
thusiastic crowd  more  so,  and  before  the  people  had 
fairly  settled  down  to  listen  the  words  came  to  him 
that  he  wished  to  say. 

"  Friends,  I  do  not  know  one  bit  what  I  am  put 
up  here  to  tell  you.  Luke  has  said  I  do  not  speak  by 
choice,  and  it  might  have  been  better  if  he  had 


20  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

written  down  something  for  me  to  say;  but  he  has 
not,  and  I  reclcon,  anyway,  that  both  you  and  he  will 
have  to  be  content  with  what  ideas  come  from  my 
own  mind  "  ("  Hear,  Hear,"  from  Luke,  in  sonorous 
tones).  "  Now,  I  am  not  going  to  say  much,"  John 
went  on,  straightening  himself  unconsciously,  as. his 
nervousness  evaporated,  "  in  my  way  of  looking  at 
this  thing  the  less  we  talk  the  better.  Let  us  keep 
our  breath,  now  that  war  is  really  coming,  for  the 
fighting."  (Loud  cheers.)  "  This  war,  friends,  in  my 
idea,  ain't  going  to  be  any  playing  game.  'Twill 
mean  death,  and  ruin,  and  misery  untold  to  thou- 
sands and  hundreds  of  thousands.  For  I  tell  you  it 
Avill  not  be  finished  up  this  month,  nor  this  year,  un- 
less the  folk  down  South  have  changed  a  powerful 
deal  since  they  followed  George  Washington  in  the 
War  of  Independence,  and  whipped  the  British  army 
into  bits." 

A  growl  of  dissent  here  from  many  throats,  and 
a  voice  shouted — 

"How  abovit  Boston  tea?  It  was  New  England 
men,  not  Southerners,  who  ran  that  war." 

"Was  it?"  said  John,  slowly,  raising  his  voice 
and  looking  the  crowd  squarely  in  the  face.  "  I  guess 
not.  They  helped;  but  if  you  read  history  you  will 
find  that  Washington  himself  came  from  Virginia, 
and  that  he  was  not  the  only  one." 

"  Virginia  ain't  seceded,"  cried  an  elderly  man, 
with  slow  scorn. 

"  Not  yet,  but  she  will.  And  if  she  did  not,  there 
is  as  good  fighting  stuff  in  the  Carolinas  as  elsewhere. 
Now,  I  am  not  afraid  of  this."  ("  Glad  you  ain't," 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  21 

drawled  the  last  speaker.)  "  I  hope  no  Union  man 
will  be.  But  we  must  reckon  the  cost,  and  it  comes 
home  to  me,  hearing  that  in  this  town  more  than  one 
hundred  boys  have  elected  since  noon  to  leave  their 
homes,  and  march  south  to  the  war,  that  this  part  of 
the  picture  has  been  kind  of  painted  out.  Don't  for- 
get, friends  " — his  tone  became  very  earnest  now — 
"  what  such  fighting  means.  It  is  their  country  you 
will  fight  in,  not  your  own.  Every  man,  woman,  and 
child  you  meet  will  be  on  their  side,  and  against  you. 
We  are  bound  to  whip  them  in  the  end,  but  it  won't 
be  done  at  once — I  know  it  won't.  As  to  myself, 
Luke  says — and  what  Luke  says,  he  knows — that  you 
who  have  sworn  to  follow  the  flag,  have  taken  and 
made  me  your  captain.  What  shall  I  say?  What 
can  I  say  but  that  I  thank  you  heartily?  I  was  the 
most  surprised  man  in  Chippewa  when  I  heard  the 
news,  and  the  most  ashamed.  For,  friends,  boys,  I 
am  not  worth  it.  I  ain't  indeed."  The  speaker's 
voice  became  a  trifle  husky  now,  and  the  cheers  broke 
out  anew.  "  Yet  to  say  I  do  not  feel  lifted  right  up, 
until  I  am  nigh  as  tall  as  Luke  himself,  would  be  to 
tell  a  lie.  I  am  honoured,  indeed.  But  mind  this,  I 
will  not  say  that  I  accept  the  post  ixntil  I  have  had 
time  to  think  a  bit.  I  can't  think  now,  for  it  has 
come  too  suddenly.  To-morrow  I  shall  know  what  I 
can  do.     Thank  you,  though,  every  one." 

He  stepped  back,  and  the  people,  after  one  mo- 
ment of  hesitation,  stamped  and  cheered,  then  cried 
for  "  Lieutenant  Cotton,"  and  Seth  came  forward 
with  a  bow. 

Seth  Cotton  was  the  schoolmaster  of  Chippewa.- 


22  THE   GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

He  was  a  good  and  fluent  speaker,  and  an  ardent  abo- 
litionist; moreover,  he  was  in  love,  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  love,  a  combination  of  circumstances 
which  with  a  vivid  imagination  and  a  sanguine  nature 
caused  him  to  speak  now  as  he  had  never  spoken  in 
his  life  before,  and  in  all  probability  never  would 
again. 

He  began  by  a  few  words  in  the  best  taste  about 
John  Burletson,  "  a  true  friend,  because  a  candid  one. 
So  honest  and  so  strong,  that  even  the  force  of  this 
tremendous  time  does  not  move  him  one  inch  beyond 
his  sober  base  of  thought  and  conviction.  What  he 
thinks  he  says  unflinchingly,  all  honour  to  him." 
Then,  taking  John's  words  about  the  Southerners  as 
his  text,  the  speaker  in  impassioned  language  de- 
nounced "  those  degenerate,  profligate  descendants  of 
our  great  Father  George."  He  called  them  "  rebels 
and  renegades  ";  he  painted  the  horrors  of  the  sla- 
very they  upheld  in  lurid  colours — he  had  never  seen 
a  Southerner,  and  never  spoken  to  a  negro,  but  he 
knew  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  by  heart.  He  besought 
his  hearers  to  cast  aside  all  tics  of  love,  and  home, 
and  worldly  gain,  and,  one  and  all,  to  enlist  for  the 
war.  He  modestly  asserted  his  right  to  say  as  much, 
having,  himself,  been  the  first  to  place  his  name 
on  the  list  of  volunteers;  and  he  concluded  by 
asking  Luke  to  read  aloud  the  names  of  those 
"  pledged  to  stand  by  their  country  in  this,  its  hour 
of  peril." 

As  might  be  expected,  in  the  present  state  of  the 
public  temperature,  such  a  speech  as  this  stirred  the 
hearts  of  men  to  their  depths.     It  was  many  minutes 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  23 

before  Luke  was  able  to  command  silence,  and  in 
deep  ringing  tones  read  out  the  names.  The  most 
moved  of  all  was  Jean.  Never  had  Seth  Cotton  done 
his  own  particular  cause,  which  had,  on  the  whole, 
been  rather  a  losing  one,  so  much  good  as  by  his 
speech  that  night.  The  sentiments  he  expressed  so 
well  were  the  very  breath  of  Jean's  life  just  now. 
She  was  of  eager  temperament,  and  the  tune  was  full 
of  an  electricity  which  fired  the  blood  of  the  coldest. 
Tears  started  to  her  eyes  as  she  heard  his  words,  and 
she  applauded  them  until  her  hands  ached.  Now,  as 
the  names  were  read,  a  passionate  desire  came  to  do 
something — ever  so  little — herself,  and  before  long 
an  idea  struck  her,  caused  by  a  sharp  cry  of  "  Old 
John  Brown — God  bless  him,"  when  that  famous 
name,  which  belonged  in  this  instance  to  a  youth  of 
eighteen  summers,  was  read  out.  When  Luke's  task 
was  done,  and  the  cheers  had  died  away,  and  there 
was  a  movement  toward  the  door,  the  girl,  moved  by 
a  sudden  impulse,  stepped  forward  to  the  edge  of  the 
platform  and  began  to  sing.  It  was  a  song  familiar 
already  at  Abolitionist  meetings,  but  now  to  become 
before  all  others  the  national  air  in  the  North;  and 
the  people  in  their  excitement  listened  spellbound, 
with  husky,  laboured  breath. 

"John  Brown's  body  is  Ij'ing  in  the  ground, 
But  his  soul  goes  marching  on." 

And  when  she  paused  at  the  end  of  the  verse,  and 
blushing  at  her  own  boldness,  cried  "  The  chorus, 
please,"  not  a  voice  in  the  store  was  silent.     Every 


24:  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

man  and  every  woman,  those  with  strong  voices,  and 
those  with  no  voices  at  all,  joined  in  with  might  and 
main,  and  sang  from  the  bottom  of  their  hearts — 

"  Glory,  glory,  hallelujah.     Glory,  glory,  hallelujah. 
His  soul  goes  marching  on." 


CHAPTER   III. 

It  was  midnight  before  John  left  Chippewa. 
The  crowd  dispersed  after  "  John  Brown  "  was  sung, 
but  Luke  invited  him  to  share  a  late  supper;  Jean's 
eyes  seconded  the  invitation,  and  though  he  was 
haunted  by  a  fear  lest  his  mother  might,  after  all,  be 
sitting  up  for  him,  he  could  not  resist,  and  once  in 
Selby's  comfortable  parlour,  he  found  it  hard  to  leave. 

The  party  consisted  of  John  and  Seth,  Luke  and 
his  daughter,  and  Mrs.  Selby,  whose  name  we  place 
last  as  she  was  considered  by  every  one  except  John 
to  be  the  least  important  person  there.  Mrs.  Selby 
was  a  stout,  "  homely  "  woman  of  fifty.  Her  prin- 
cipal characteristics,  as  known  to  her  family,  were 
placid  good  temper,  and  a  profound  respect  for  her 
husband  and  eldest  daughter,  which  took  the  form 
of  absolute  submission  to  the  former,  and  indulgence, 
where  practicable,  of  every  whim  of  the  latter.  The 
satisfaction,  however,  that  such  irreproachable  con- 
duct gave  to  Jean  was  tempered  by  the  difficulty  of 
awakening  the  least  interest  in  her  mother  concerning 
any  matter  which  did  not  pertain  to  babies  and  the 
household.  No  exhortation,  however  eloquent  and 
convincing,  could  rouse  Mrs.  Selby  into  enthusiasm 
for  the  public  rights  and  duties  of  women,  or  the 

25 


26  THE   GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

freedom  of  the  slaves.  She  would  listen  patiently, 
and  try  with  all  her  might  to  grasp  their  importance, 
but  she  invariably  failed. 

"  Jennie  talked  about  the  niggers  last  night,"  she 
said  once  to  a  friend,  "  until,  if  you  will  believe  me, 
my  dear,  my  brains  became  that  addled  I  could  not 
tell  batter  from  mush.  I  did  not  stop  her,  'cos  it  is 
so  uplifting,  as  you  may  say,  to  feel  she  should  be  so 
smart,  and  re'elly  her  words  was  sometimes  like  or- 
gan-music, they  was  so  fine-sounding.  But  lor',  how 
my  pore  head  did  ache!  I  do  hope  she  will  not  often 
be  took  that  way  when  we  are  alone." 

This  speech  was  repeated,  with  picturesque  ad- 
ditions, to  Jean,  and  did  more  harm  to  the  fast-van- 
ishing deference  she  still  strove  to  feel  toward  her 
mother,  than  half  a  dozen  quarrels.  Yet,  in  her  way, 
Mrs.  Selby  was  shrewd  and  full  of  knowledge.  Her 
skill  in  cooking  amounted  almost  to  genius,  and  a 
better-kept  and  ordered  household  than  Luke's  did 
not  exist  in  Wisconsin.  W^ien  the  poor  folk  of 
Chippewa  fell  sick  it  was  to  ."  Mother  Selby  "  that 
they  came  for  advice,  and  the  doctor  of  the  town, 
a  skilful  practitioner,  seldom  found  fault  with  her 
remedies,  and  said  she  was  the  best  nurse  he  knew. 
John,  through  his  mother,  was  aware  of  these  things, 
and  it  was  a  constant  pain  to  him  to  see  the  impa- 
tience with  which  Jean  would  often  treat  her  mother, 
and  he  would  resolve  to  speak  his  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject; but  with  a  dislike  to  interfering,  and  a  pas- 
sivity characteristic  of  him,  he  never  did,  though 
they  had  known  one  another  since  babyhood.  To- 
night his  thoughts  were  too  full  of  other  things,  and 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  27 

under  the  spell  of  those  glorious  blue  eyes  he  talked 
and  argued  with  the  rest,  and  noticed  no  more  than 
Seth — who  had  never  thought  about  it  at  all — that 
all  the  work  of  cooking  and  dishing  up  the  supper, 
the  clearing  away,  and  the  washing  of  things,  was 
done  by  the  mistress  of  the  house,  her  daughter  sit- 
ting with  the  gentlemen,  her  hands  idle  before  her. 
Jean,  herself,  thought  of  it  as  little  as  they.  Her 
mind  was  full  of  the  great  crisis.  She  listened  with 
breathless  interest  to  John  as  he  expressed  his  fears 
about  the  safety  of  the  capital,  and  she  took  his  part 
valiantly  when  her  father  and  Seth  pooh-poohed  the 
danger,  and  prophesied  the  paralyzation  of  the  Se- 
ceders  when  they  should  hear  of  the  storm  their  ac- 
tion had  aroused  throughout  the  North.  As  for  Mrs. 
Selby,  she  listened  too,  and  tried  to  understand,  prick- 
ing herself  to  the  bone  in  her  efforts  to  keep  awake 
over  her  work — a  new  skirt  for  Jean — but  at  last  had 
to  give  it  up  and  steal  away  to  bed  unnoticed  and  un- 
missed. 

At  length,  Avhen  the  lamps  showed  a  disposition 
to  smell  unpleasantly  preparatory  to  going  out  alto-- 
gether,  and  Luke  himself  had  given  more  than  one 
portentous  yawn,  the  young  men  remembered  the 
flight  of  time,  and  took  their  leave.  Jean  shook 
hands  with  each,  very  cordially;  but  Seth  noticed 
with  a  jealous  pang  that  her  fingers  rested  in  Burlet- 
son's  hand  longer  than  in  his,  and  that  her  voice  was 
tremulous  in  its  earnestness  as  she  said — 

"  Do  you  know,  John,  you  have  not  put  your 
name  down  on  father's  list?" 

"  That  is  so." 


28  THE   GOSPEL   WRIT   IN   STEEL. 

"But  why?" 

"I  made  up  my  mind  when  first  the  idea  that 

there  was   to   be   war   came  to   me,   that   I   would 

•never  promise  to  go  without  hearing  what  mother 

had  to  say.     To-morrow  morning  I  will  run  down 

here  to  tell  your  father  what  I'll  do — and  you." 

Was  there  a  slight  emphasis  on  the  last  word, 
though  it  was  spoken  in  a  lower  tone?  Seth  thought 
there  was,  and  was  certain  that  Jean  did,  and  that 
there  was  a  deeper  colour  in  her  cheeks,  a  suspicious 
brightness  in  her  eyes  when  John  mounted  and  rode 
away. 

As  for  John,  he  galloped  merrily  home,  humming 
"  John  Brown's  body,"  and  making  plans  all  the  way. 
He  had  means  enough  laid  by  to  give  his  company 
the  best  rifles  money  could  buy.  The  problem  was 
the  management  of  the  farm  in  his  absence.  But  in 
this  matter  his  mother's  convenience  and  comfort  was 
too  deeply  involved  for  any  plan  to  be  seriously 
thought  out  until  she  had  been  consulted.  He 
stabled  his  horse,  and  stole  softly  to  the  back  of  the 
house,  for  Mrs.  Burletson  was  a  very  light  sleeper. 
He  took  off  his  boots  before  he  opened  the  door,  and 
crept  in  without  a  sound.  When  in  the  hall  he  saw  a 
shaft  of  light  under  the  sitting-room  door,  and  a  low 
exclamation  of  annoyance  and  self-reproach  escaped 
him.  She  must  have  waited  for  him  after  all.  He 
opened  the  door,  and  for  a  moment  his  heart  stood 
still.  Mrs.  Burletson  was  sitting  in  her  arm-chair, 
drawn  close  to  the  table.  The  big  family  Bible  lay 
open  before  her  near  a  lighted  lamp.  But  she  was 
not  reading,  her  eyes  were  closed,  and  she  was  leaning 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  29 

back  with  folded  hands,  looking  so  white  and  hag- 
gard, that  a  horrible  dread  seized  John.  He  laid  a 
finger  on  her  wrist,  and  to  his  intense  relief  she 
ojjened  her  eyes  and  smiled. 

"  Is  it  you,  John  ?  I  have  been  dozing.  My  eyes 
soon  get  tired  of  reading  these  days,  and  to  rest  them 
I  sat  a  while  to  think,  and  so  went  off.  But,  sonny, 
you  look  scared.     Is  anything  wrong?" 

"  Nothing — except  that  I  am  upset  to  see  you 
here.     You  promised  you  would  not  sit  up." 

"  If  I  did  not  feel  like  it.  That  was  the  contract, 
son.  Well,  I  did — so  I  kept  here.  What  is  the 
time?" 

"  Nigh  one  o'clock." 

"  So  late?  Then  you  must  to  your  rest,  and  tell 
me  all  to-morrow.  Only  one  thing  now.  Have 
they  given  you  a  command?  " 

"  They— talk  of  it." 

"  Ah,  what  did  I  say?  "  And  her  eyes,  strangely 
heavy  and  weary,  he  thought,  flashed  with  their  old 
light.  "  After  all,  though  I  never  hold  much  in 
common  with  the  folk  round  here,  I  will  believe,  now, 
that  they  are  intelligent  at  least.  Good-night  dear. 
The  old  mother  was  right,  you  see." 

She  kissed  him,  and  would  have  risen,  but  he  put 
his  arm  about  her,  laying  his  cheek  against  hers  as  he 
used  to  do  as  a  child  when  he  had  to  make  a  con- 
fession of  some  fault.  The  significance  of  the  move- 
ment struck  Mrs.  Burletson. 

"Wliat's  to  do,  John?" 

"  Mother,  it  was  real  mean  to  leave  you  for  so  long 
alone.     I  cannot  think  how  I  came  to  forget  you." 
3 


30  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  My  dear,  you  were  needed  by  others.  I  must 
be  your  last  thought  now.  Time  was  when  the  calls 
for  you  outside  the  farm  were  for  pleasure-making. 
Then  you  never  left  me.  It  is  different  now.  Folk 
talk  of  daughters.  I  have  seen  many,  and  I  know 
one.  I  never  heard  of  any  that  came  near  my  son 
for  tenderness  and  care.  But,  John,  this  has  ended. 
I  have  told  myself  this  evening,  and  schooled  even 
my  selfish  heart — and  I  am  selfish,  aye,  grasping  and 
miserly  about  you — I  have  looked  into  the  future 
until  I  see  it  all  clear  and  straight.  When  you  go  " 
— she  stopped,  then  set  her  lips  into  their  firmest  line 
— "  when  you  go  to  the  war,  John,  you  will  leave  he- 
hind  a  contented  old  mother,  who  is  thankful  that 
God  has  spared  her  to  see  the  son  she  has  brought  up 
be  the  strength  and  support  to  his  country  that  he 
has  been  all  his  life  to  her.  There  can't  be  a  higher 
duty  for  a  man,  or  a  greater  work." 

"  You  don't  speak  of  yourself,  mother." 

She  laughed. 

"1?  Am  I  not  doing  ray  little  bit  for  the  great 
Union  cause?  I  have  one  thing  to  give — you.  I 
give  it  willingly.  I  would  tell  you  to  go,  if  you  need- 
ed telling.  You  may  be  killed  or  maimed  for  life, 
or  laid  aside  with  chills  in  that  low-lying,  un- 
healthy South.  But  you  must  go,  and  I  must  stay 
at  home  and  wait,  with  all  the  rest  of  the  women  folk. 
And  now,  to  bed,  my  dear,  to  bed.  Thank  God  be- 
fore you  sleep,  that  in  His  sight  we  have  the  strength, 
spite  of  the  love  in  our  hearts,  to  do  the  right.  It  is 
hard  on  you^  dear,  harder  than  for  me.  I  have  only 
you  to  give — you  have  me  and  another.     But  it  is 


THE   GOSPEL   WRIT   IX  STEEL.  31 

right,  and  if  we  are  Christians,  Jolm,  that  is  all  we 
need  to  know." 

She  kissed  him  on  the  lips,  and  for  a  moment 
clung  to  him,  then  closed  her  Bihle  and  put  it  in  its 
proper  place,  and  passed  on  to  her  room.  John  fol- 
lowed her  example,  and  was  soon  in  bed,  but  not  to 
sleep.  Every  nerve  was  tighth^  strung;  his  brain 
throbbed  with  conflicting  thoughts.  An  hour  ago  he 
had  ridden  home  in  the  moonlight,  with  his  mind 
made  up  to  go  to  the  war.  Now,  he  would  do — what? 
His  duty?  He  would  try — but  it  was  terribly  hard. 
All  through  the  silent  hours  that  came  before  dawn, 
John  thought  and  resolved — and  then  fought  and 
wrestled  with  his  resolutions  until  he  tore  them  to 
pieces;  only  to  begin  again  and  resolve  once  more. 
John  was  not  an  impulsive  man,  nor  was  he  quickly 
or  easily  impressed;  but  when  once  moved,  once 
roused — as  he  had  been  this  evening  at  the  store — he 
found  it  harder  than  most  men  to  pause  and  turn 
back.  Yet  his  mother's  face  as  she  waited  for  him, 
go  pallid  and  worn  and  old,  her  clinging  hands  about 
his  neck,  and,  most  of  all,  the  yearning  and  uncon- 
scious appeal  in  her  eyes,  in  spite  of  her  resolute  pur- 
pose to  efface  herself,  and  urge  him  to  leave  her  in 
her  loneliness,  held  John  fast,  and  to  cherish  her  and 
let  the  war  go  by  spelt  "  duty  "  to  him  now.  He  was 
not  long  in  coming  to  that  conclusion;  but  the  night 
had  passed,  and  the  dawn  was  stealing  in  upon  his 
chamber,  and  still  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  face 
all  that  this  involved.  Again  and  again  he  would 
say  to  himself,  "  The  country  can  find  a  thousand 
better  than  me;  my  money  will  be  useful,  and  the 


32  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

boys  shall  have  all  that;  but  as  for  myself — why, 
Seth  is  a  smarter  man,  and  a  readier,  let  him  take 
command,  what  odds?"  but  as  often  consequences 
grimly  mocked  his  words  as  sophistry  and  worse. 
What  odds,  indeed?  How  should  he  meet  Luke,  or 
the  boys  who  had  chosen  him,  or,  worst  of  all,  Jean? 
He  writhed  in  his  bed  at  the  thought  of  her,  and  for 
the  time  his  resolutions  would  give  way.  He  knew 
Jean  better,  perhaps,  than  any  one  else  had  ever  done; 
better  than  her  mother,  far  better  than  her  father, 
and  the  thought  of  what  she  would  feel  and  say, 
was  torture  of  the  worst  kind.  Her  nature  was  gen- 
erous but  self-willed,  ambitious,  and  full  of  the  wild- 
est enthusiasm  for  the  cause  of  the  Union  and  the 
slaves.  She  would  recoil  at  the  idea  of  any  man  pas- 
sively standing  by  for  others  to  reap  glory  and  re- 
nown. She  would  never  understand  his  motive, 
even  if  she  divined  it,  and  for  his  mother's  sake  he 
must  conceal  it.  If  his  mother  knew  that  he  had 
done  this  for  her,  she  would  be  miserable  for  life,  and 
Jean  would  never  keep  such"  a  secret.  The  sacrifice 
was  too  great.  He  could  not  do  it.  Then  he  would 
turn  over,  close  his  eyes  and  try  to  sleep,  soon  to  be- 
gin again  the  struggle  with  himself.  But  when  the 
day  dawned,  he  pulled  himself  together  with  stern 
self-reproach.  He  could  not  meet  his  mother  with 
an  uncertain  mind.  A  decision,  deliberate  and  final, 
must  be  come  to  now.  Slowly  and  wearily  he  rose, 
and  threw  the  window  open  wide.  It  faced  east,  and 
a  pale  yellow  rim  of  broadening  light  crept  from  the 
horizon  line,  bringing  day  with  it  and  action.  The 
time  for  doubt  was  gone.     When  John  had  turned 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  33 

from  the  window  he  had  left  his  uncertainties  be- 
hind. He  dropped  on  his  knees  and  prayed  earnest- 
ly, but  it  was  for  strength  and  faith — not  guidance; 
that  had  been  given. 

It  was  Sunday,  and  as  John  went  the  round  of  his 
stables  and  tended  his  stock,  the  stillness  and  calm  of 
the  Sabbath  morning  entered  his  heart,  and  for  a  time 
brought  comfort  to  the  wounds  there,  and  strength- 
ened nerve  and  mind  for  the  ordeal  that  had  to  come. 
When  breakfast-time  came,  and  he  met  his  mother's 
eyes,  she  only  saw  a  slight  pallor  and  heaviness  in  his 
face,  natural  after  the  late  hours  and  excitement  of 
the  night  before.  Yet,  whether  from  some  warning 
instinct,  or  because  she  could  not  trust  herself  to 
speak  freely  about  plans  for  his  departure,  Mrs.  Bur- 
letson  asked  no  questions  about  what  had  passed,  and 
the  meal  was  eaten  almost  in  silence. 

"  What  time  do  j'ou  start  for  town,  John?  " 

"  Directly  we  are  through  breakfast,  mother.  I 
will  be  back  in  time  to  take  you  to  meeting— but  I 
have  to  see  Luke  early." 

"  I  guessed  that,"  she  said,  with  an  attempt  at  a 
smile.     "  Did  you  give  Jean  my  message?  " 

"  I  forgot  it,  mother." 

"  I  am  glad.  Don't  think  me  mean,  son,  but  I 
want  you  to-day — all  to  myself — that  is  when  you 
do  come  back." 

They  had  moved  from  the  table,  and  now  John 
came  close  to  her. 

"  I  have  news  to  tell  you  which  I've  kept  till 
now." 

"  You  should  have  news,  son,"  looking  up  at  him 


34  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

with  keen  and  questioning  eyes.  "  Tliere  was  a  great 
meeting,  'Eia  said — Jim  Hallett  told  her — and  you 
made  a  speech.     Come,  tell  me  all." 

"■  Yes,"  he  answered,  in  a  curious,  low,  strained 
tone.  "  But  there  is  not  much  to  say.  Luke  asked 
me  if  I  would  volunteer;  I  said  I  would  answer  him 
to-day.  I  have  thought  a  good  bit  over  it,  and  what 
I  will  have  to  tell  Luke,  mother,  is — is  that  the  one 
thousand  dollars  I  have  laying  at  the  bank  shall  go 
to  the  boys  for  arms.     Do  you  approve?  " 

"  I  do,  John.  You  have  no  present  need  of  that 
money,  and  from  you,  as  captain  of  the  company,  the 
gift  comes  well.    Not  many  farmers  will  do  so  much." 

"  I  had  meant  first  only  to  put  down  half  the 
amount,"  John  said,  his  words  coming  more  and  more 
slowly,  "  but  I  reckon  now  to  give  it  all.  I  have  de- 
cided to  tell  Luke  to  find  another  man  for  the  com- 
mand." 

"  You  mean  you'll  go  as  a  private  only — now  why 
is  that?" 

"  I  mean,  mother,  that  I  am  not  going  to  the  war 
at  all." 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone;  but  his  mother,  searching 
his  face  with  her  eyes,  thought  she  had  never  seen 
him  look  so  stern.     Then  her  own  face  hardened. 

"  John,"  she  cried,  hoarsely,  "  tell  me  the  reason 
for  such  words." 

"  There  is  more  than  one." 

"  Tell  me  the  chief  one.  Now,  do  not  fence.  I 
will  not  have  that.  Is  it  me  ?  Is  it  because  you 
think  I  should  be  fretting  about  you?  Is  it  that? 
Speak! " 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  35 

Her  tone  was  fierce,  almost  threatening,  and  she 
hoped  to  see  him  wince;  but  his  face  never  moved  a 
muscle;  his  eyes  met  hers  without  flinching;  only, 
when  he  touched  her  forehead  with  a  kiss,  she  felt 
that  his  lips  were  cold  as  ice. 

"  Mother,  I  cannot  tell  you  what  is  on  my  mind. 
I  will  not.  But — mother — do  not  think  me  cowardly 
or  selfish.  Have  faith  that  I  am  trying  to  do  my 
duty.     Will  you?  " 

There  was  a  break  in  the  firm  voice  now,  a  bitter 
cry  in  it  that  cut  his  mother  to  the  heart. 

"  Why  ask  me  that,  John  ?  I  know  that  what- 
ever it  is  it  must  be  good — the  best." 

He  kissed  her  passionately. 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  that,  but  I  wanted  to 
make  sure.  You  see,"  he  tried  to  smile,  "  there  is  no 
one  else  who  will  begin  to  believe  in  me  now,  or  ever 
again." 

"  Nonsense,  there  is  Jean." 

He  drew  hi-mself  away,  and  shuddered. 

"Jean!     Jean — least  of  all." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

The  night  spent  by  John  in  fierce  debate  and 
struggle  with  himself  was  the  most  miserable  Seth 
Cotton  had  known  in  a  life  which  had  not  been  a 
happy  one.  Seth's  parents  died  when  he  was  five 
years  old.  His  father,  the  son  of  a  well-to-do  Cin- 
cinnati doctor,  was  a  man  of  some  character,  but  ob- 
stinate, impulsive,  and  vain.  As  a  clerk  in  a  whole- 
sale store  he  began  life  with  capital  prospects,  which 
he  threw  away  to  become  a  musician,  partly  because 
he  believed  himself  to  be  a  genius,  but  in  the  main  to 
escape  the  drudgery  of  commercial  life.  He  was 
talented,  and  persevering  with  the  work  he  loved, 
but  was  unsuccessful,  and  when  he  married  was  but 
a  teacher  of  music,  living  from  hand  to  mouth.  His 
marriage,  though  a  reckless  piece  of  improvidence, 
was  the  wisest  thing  he  ever  did  in  his  life,  for  his 
wife  was  a  woman  of  spirit,  and  really  clever.  Her 
bargain,  poor  thing,  was  a  bad  one,  but  she  made  the 
best  of  it;  cultivated  her  voice,  took  singing  engage- 
ments, and  succeeded  in  supporting  her  husband  and 
their  child  in  comfort.  In  time  they  might  have 
been  well  off,  but  one  bitter  winter  Mrs.  Cotton  was 
seized  with  an  affection  of  the  throat,  and  died  before 
the  spring.     Her  husband  did  not  survive  her  many 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  37 

months.  He  had  loved  her  deeply  in  his  passionate, 
selfish  way,  and  the  depression  of  mind  after  her 
death  developed  a  latent  heart  complaint. 

The  only  relation  that  remained  to  Seth  was  an 
aunt,  his  father's  sister,  an  old  maid,  self-opinionated, 
dictatorial,  and  austere.  She  had  quarrelled  violent- 
ly with  her  brother  when  he  gave  up  business,  and 
refused  to  see  him  when  she  heard  that  his  wife  was 
a  "  public  singer,"  but  at  his  death  she  did  her  duty 
by  the  child.  Miss  Cotton  was  wealthy,  and  all  that 
money  could  buy  was  provided  for  Seth — but  it  was 
at  a  price.  From  the  first  his  aunt  chilled  and  awed 
him.  In  her  presence  he  was  as  dvimb  as  a  mouse 
and  nearly  as  timid.  The  only  person  he  loved  was 
his  nurse.  When  he  grew  older  the  childish  fear  de- 
veloped into  antagonism  of  the  bitterest  kind.  It 
was  ]\Iiss  Cotton's  fixed  intention  that  Seth  should- 
become  a  minister  in  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  he 
was  educated  solely  with  that  view.  Seth  hated  the- 
ology, abhorred  the  notion  of  becoming  a  preacher, 
and  early  in  life  determined  that  he  would  be  a 
schoolmaster.  It  was  a  long,  hard  battle;  but  the  • 
boy  won.  He  possessed  his  father's  obstinacy  and  his 
mother's  brains;  and  at  one-and-twenty  procured  for 
himself  a  modest  appointment  in  Chicago,  and  was 
told  by  his  aunt  that  she  never  wished  to  see  him 
again.  He  had  deliberately  thrown  away  a  fortune 
of  seventy  thousand  dollars.  Seth,  however,  had  a 
natural  gift  for  teaching,  and  loved  his  independence. 
He  steadily  improved  his  position,  and  in  two  years 
had  qualified  himself  to  take  the  management  of  a 
school — as  they  existed  in  those  days — single  handed. 


38  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

Unfortunately  Seth  had  one  weakness,  which  was  a 
serious  drawback  to  his  advancement  in  his  profes- 
sion, and  in  his  four-and-twentieth  year  caused  him 
to  accept  the  offer  of  a  less  remunerative  post  in 
■Chippewa.  ■  He  was  always  falling  in  love.  As  a 
rule  the  affairs  were  not  very  serious,  for  it  was  Seth's 
misfortune  to  show  his  hand  too  soon,  and  propose 
before  the  young  lad}'  had  thought  about  him  in  any 
other  light  than   that   of   a   pleasant  acquaintance; 

-consequently  the  flames  of  his  affection  were  always 
being  prematurely  snuffed  out.  But  it  happened  one 
day  that  the  object  of  his  misplaced  attentions  took 
offence,   and   complained   to   an   indignant   brother, 

'who  attacked  Seth  next  day  in  the  open  street  with  a 
walking  cane.  The  encounter  ended  by  a  sound  cas- 
tigation  being  administered  to  the  aggressor.  Seth's 
friends  said  he  had  done  right;  but  he  had  to  send  in 
his  resignation  as  instructor  of  youth  in  Chicago. 
He  came  to  Chippewa  in  an  exceedingly  misanthropi- 
cal condition  of  mind;  nevertheless,  he  had  not  been 

•there  a  week  before  he  felt  that  in  Jean  Selby  he  had 
met  his  fate.  For  a  long  time  he  worshipped  her 
from  afar,  content  to  do  so  after  his  recent  experi- 
ences, and  throwing  himself  with  all  his  might  into 
his  work  at  the  school.  By-and-bye,  however,  he 
was  able  to  make  his  first  advance  through  a  younger 
brother  of  hers,  who  became  one  of  his  scholars. 
They  were  soon  fast  friends;  and  Seth,  warned  by 
past  blunders,  and  perceiving  that  Jean  was  of  very 
different  stuff  from  the  pretty  school  teachers  he  had 
flirted  with  in  former  days,  kept  himself  in  order,  and 
pursued   the   path    of   discretion.      As   a   result   he 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  39 

plunged  into  deeper  water  week  by  week.  In  six 
months  lie  was  over  head  and  ears  in  love,  and 
thought  of  little  else.  Everything  he  did,  or  tried  to 
do — the  books  he  read  and  the  subjects  he  mastered 
— were  for  Jean.  She  had  many  interests,  having, 
thanks  to  her  mother,  plenty  of  time  at  her  disposal, 
and  Seth  made  it  his  duty  to  keep  pace  with  them  all. 
Wherefore,  on  Jean's  side,  also,  the  friendship  grew 
in  strength  as  the  months  went  by,  and  Seth  became 
in  her  eyes  a  most  agreeable  and  well-informed  young 
man. 

One  thorn  only  lay  in  Seth's  bed  of  roses,  but  that 
was  a  very  big  one — John  Burletson.  The  first' 
words  about  Jean  which  Seth  heard  when  he  settled 
down  in  Chippewa  had  been  that  she  and  this  farm- 
ing fellow  were  made  for  one  another;  and  though 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  those  who  said  this 
should  live  to  find  themselves  mistaken,  the  more  he 
saw  of  John  and  knew  of  Jean  the  more  the  prophecy 
haunted  him.  In  American  country  towns,  in  those 
days,  the  love  affairs  of  the  rising  generation  were 
looked  upon  by  every  one  concerned — not  excepting 
the  parties  themselves — from  a  common-sense,  prac- 
tical point  of  view,  eminently  unsatisfactory  to  a  ro- 
mancer. It  was  in  the  nature  of  things.  The  lads 
and  lassies  went  to  school  together  from  their  earliest 
days.  Out  of  school  hours  they  saw  one  another  when 
and  where  they  listed,  and,  as  people  seldom  travelled 
much,  they  never  lost  sight  of  one  another,  and  each 
was  familiar  with  the  weak  points  of  his  friend,  her 
affinities  and  the  reverse,  long  before  she  reached  a 
"  marriageable  age."     This  was  healthy  on  the  whole. 


40  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

Lessons  in  those  days  were  not  made  the  cause  of  keen 
emulation  or  rivalry  we  often  see  now;  boys  and  girls 
did  not  struggle  feverishly  for  prizes,  run  hard  brain 
races  neck  to  neck,  and  lose  year  by  year,  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  defeat,  or  exultation  of  victory — the  boys  in 
chivalry,  the  girls  in  refinement  and  simplicity. 
Moreover,  out  of  school  hours  the  lad  was  on  the  farm, 
the  girl  in  the  house,  and  no  opportunities  existed  for 
seeing  too  much  of  each  other.  Thus  the  love  affairs 
of  those  days  among  the  poorer  middle  classes  usually 
came  quietly  and  uneventfully,  like  seeking  like. 
Only,  now  and  then,  into  the  quiet  towns,  would  come 
men  from  other  places,  with  roving  eyes  and  hungry 
hearts,  and  then  angry  blood  would  rise  and  the  story- 
tellers rejoice.  So  far,  however,  in  the  present  case 
we  are  fain  to  confess  nothing  of  the  kind  had  oc- 
curred. 

In  the  first  place,  Jean  was  not  sentimental,  and 
held  out  an  open  hand  of  friendship  to  both  men;  in 
the  second  place,  it  takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel,  and 
John  was  the  most  peaceable  "of  men.  As  for  Seth, 
he  was  one  day  in  the  depths  of  despair,  the  next  on 
a  pinnacle  of  hope.  As  the  rumours  of  war  grew 
stronger  his  friendship  with  Jean  grew  also,  and 
their  meetings  became  more  frequent  and  lasted 
longer.  The  day  before  Sumter  fell,  Seth  had  been 
two  hours  with  her  discussing  the  situation.  Then 
came  Saturday  evening,  and  Seth  gave  way  to  bitter 
despondency.  He  could  not,  though  he  tried,  com- 
plain of  Jean.  She  had  been  as  sympathetic  and  as 
inspiring  to  him  as  ever;  but  to  John  she  had  been 
all  this  and  something  more.     She  had  treated  him 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  41 

with  respect,  deference  even.  She  had  yielded  her 
judgment,  which  she  had  never  done  to  Seth.  Oh,  it 
was  bitter.  And  the  worst  of  it  was,  he  could  find 
no  fault  even  with  his  rival.  Burletson  gave  himself 
no  airs,  but  was  just  the  same  simple,  slow-speaking 
old  John,  only  a  trifle  graver  than  usual.  Angry 
and  sore  as  Seth  was,  he  found  himself  even  sympa- 
thizing with  Jean's  attitude  toward  his  rival.  "  I 
never  liked  the  man  better,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  Confound  him!  what  a  good  fellow  he  is,  how- 
straight  he  goes  at  a  thing,  and  completely  masters  it 
— swallows  it  whole,  so  to  speak,  and  chews  it  into 
pulp,  before  even  he  talks  about  it;  yet  as  modest  as 
a  child.  Thunder!  but  I  will  follow  him  to  the  death 
when  the  time  comes.  Heigh-ho!  what  an  unlucky 
beggar  I  was  to  meet  John  here,  and  what  a  fool  to 
think  I  should  ever  stand  half  a  show  when  it  came 
to  fighting  him!  "  At  about  this  point  in  his  reflec- 
tions Seth  fell  asleep.  He  awakened  late,  and  lan- 
guidly ate  his  breakfast,  finishing  just  in  time  to 
stroll  over  to  the  store  at  ten  o'clock,  where  he  was  to 
meet  John  and  Luke  for  a  chat  before  meeting-time. 
As  he  Avent  down  the  street  he  was  surprised  at  the 
many  cordial  greetings  he  received  from  men  with 
whom  he  had  only  been  on  nodding  acquaintance 
hitherto,  and  presently  he  began  to  see  that  his 
speech  last  evening  had  made  a  marked  difference  in 
his  standing  in  the  town.  This  cheered  him  im- 
mensely. His  spirits  rose  at  a  bound,  and  by  the  time 
he  greeted  Mrs.  Selby  on  his  way  to  the  room  behind 
the  store  he  had  marked  out  for  himself  a  distin- 
guished military  and  political  career.     He  loved  Jean 


42  THE   GOSPEL   WRIT  IN   STEEL. 

still;  but  life  contained  other  things  worth  winning 
besides  a  woman's  heart.  The  sound  of  a  voice  talk- 
ing in  loud  angry  tones  arrested  his  attention,  and 
brought  him  back  to  the  present  with  a  jar.  He 
opened  the  door  and  looked  round.  His  eyes  were 
caught  first  of  all  by  John  standing  by  the  table,  his 
head  bent,  and  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back,  as 
they  had  been  at  the  meeting.  His  face  was  gray 
and  miserable,  yet  full  of  a  determination  which 
struck  Seth  at  once,  and  remained  in  his  memory 
after  what  followed  as  the  deepest  impression  of  all. 
Then  Seth  glanced  at  Jean.  She  was  looking  at 
John,  an  angry  light  in  her  eyes,  which  sent  a  sud- 
den thrill  of  hope  to  Seth's  heart.  Her  father,  whom 
Seth  saw  last,  was  speaking.  At  Seth's  entrance  he 
brought  his  clenched  fist  down  upon  the  table  with  a 
crash. 

"  There  is  time  yet,"  he  cried,  "  just  time.  Take 
your  courage  up  again,  and  be  a  man.  Can  you,  be- 
fore Seth  Cotton,  here,  show  the  white  feather  so? 
Do  you  want  him  to  take  your  place  with — with  the 
boys,  and  all  else?  Do  you  think  you  can  bide  here 
without  one  self-respecting  citizen  among  us  all  to 
touch  your  hand?  By  God!  John,  if  you  had  not 
said  this  with  your  own  tongue,  and  before  Jean  too, 
I  would  doubt  my  own  ears  and  wits,  sooner  than  be- 
lieve it.  That  you,  our  John,  as  me  and  my  wife 
have  called  you  these  many  years,  should  turn  in  the 
path  set  before  him,  have  the  plough  in  the  furrow, 
and  deliberately  go  right  back  on  his  tracks — why, 
there,  it  must  be  a  lie,  and  I  can't  believe  it;  I  will 
not.'* 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  43 

It  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  Luke  Selby  so  com- 
pletely thrown  off  his  balance.  Yet  every  man  has  a 
tender  place  somewhere,  and  Lnke's  had  been  touched 
this  morning  to  the  quick.  For  years  he  had  watched 
John;  had  noticed  his  increasing  interest  in  politics, 
his  steady  way  of  accumulating  knowledge,  and  fit- 
ting himself  to  take  a  responsible  part  in  whatever 
might  have  to  be  done.  He  knew  how  well  he  man- 
aged his  business,  and  was  as  sure  as  Mrs.  Burletson 
herself  that  he  only  wanted  his  opportunity  to  man- 
age the  affairs  of  others  equally  well.  Naturally  he 
had  desired  this  man  for  his  son-in-law,  and  viewed 
his  growing  affections  for  Jean  with  warmest  ap- 
proval. When  war  became  inevitable,  and  the  sure 
way  to  win  popular  favour  and  renown  was  by  arms, 
the  idea  of  John  getting  a  command  in  the  volunteer 
army  was  quickly  seized  and  made  a  certainty  by 
Luke,  and  he  held  himself  ready  to  use  every  particle 
of  political  influence  he  possessed  to  ensure  speedy 
promotion.  AVhen  after  all  this  he  found  that  John 
threw  it  away,  declined  his  commission,  refused  even 
to  volunteer,  it  was  hardly  wonderful  that  Luke  Selby 
should  for  once  lose  his  dignity  and  self-control. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  Seth 
said — 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

He  looked  at  Jean,  and  she  replied  in  a  dry,  hard 
tone, 

"  We  have  had  a  surprise  this  morning,  father  and 
me.     Have  you  come  to  tell  us  that  business  engage-- 
ments  will  prevent  you  from  going  to  the  war?  " 

"How  can  3'ou  insult  me  by  such  an  idea?  " 


44  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

She  gave  a  bitter  laugh. 

"  I  told  you  we  had  been  surprised.  I  might  have 
said  we  do  not  feel  like  trusting  any  one  again.  I  am 
sorry  if  I  hurt  you." 

"  You  have  hurt  me,"  he  answered  shortly,  in- 
stinctively feeling  that  now,  if  ever,  his  time  would 
come.  "  But  never  mind  my  feelings.  I  came  to 
take  orders  from  my  superior  officer.  Captain,  what 
is  the  news?  " 

He  regretted  afterward  having  spoken  in  this 
way,  for  when  John  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  him, 
Seth  saw  such  a  world  of  suffering  written  in  his  face 
that  he  positively  shivered. 

"  The  news  is  this,"  John  answered,  in  the  tone 
of  a  man  weary  beyond  words.  "  Circumstances 
-since  last  night  make  it  that  I  cannot  go  to  the  war. 
I  have  told  these  folk;  now  I  tell  you.  I  am  sorry 
for  all,  because  it  will  be  upsetting,  maybe,  after  what 
was  said  last  night.  But  it  has  to  be.  When  Luke 
has  done  I  have  some  things  to  explain  to  you,  Seth, 
before  I  go." 

Luke  sat  down  with  something  like  a  curse. 

"  I  ain't  another  word  to  say.  But,"  with  a  ma- 
licious smile,  "  perhaps  Jean  has." 

"  I  have  many,  indeed,"  she  cried,  then  hesitated, 
as  she  met  John's  look.  "  I  mean,"  she  went  on, 
with  a  catch  in  her  breath,  ^'  I  cannot  understand  it, 
anyway.  If,  behind  what  you  have  said,  there  is 
some  great  reason  holding  j'ou,  it  seems  to  me  \\n- 
natural,  unkind,  cruel,  that  you  should  treat  us  this 
way,  and  give  no  sort  of  explanation.  John,  are  you 
afraid?" 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  45 

"  I  am  not  afraid." 

"  Are  you  not?  "  sneered  Luke.  "  Then  I  never 
saw  a  man  act  cowardice  better.  Talk  till  you  are 
dead,  John,  you  will  never  convince  me,  after  what 
I  have  seen  to-day,  that  fear  is  not  at  the  bottom  of 
your  mind." 

John  turned  on  him  suddenly. 

"  I  did  not  lay  myself  out,  Luke  Selby,  to  con- 
vince you,  or  any  other  man.  This  is  my  busi- 
ness." 

His  tone  was  not  so  gentle  as  it  had  been;  he  had 
borne  about  as  much  as  he  could  stand. 

"  Jean,"  he  said  in  a  lower  tone,  "  have  you  more 
to  say?  " 

"  I  want  to  know  ivliy'?  " 

"  I  have  said,  I  cannot  give  my  reasons." 

"  Is  it  your  mother?     Now  tell  me  that." 

"  I  cannot,"  he  answered  very  slowly.  "  I  cannot 
tell  you  that." 

"  Then,"  she  cried,  nothing  but  the  trembling  of 
her  hands  to  belie  the  cruelty  of  her  words,  "  you  are 
not  the  man  I  believed  you  to  be — oh,  nothing  of  that 
man!  And  w^hen  you  are  in  town  about  your  busi- 
ness, remember,  you  will  never,  never  trouble  to  come 
and  speak  to  me." 

He  winced  for  the  first  time,  then,  squaring  his 
shoulders,  turned  to  Seth. 

"  My  words  with  you  will  not  take  long.  You 
will  be  in  my  place — a  gain  in  men.  The  only  loss 
might  have  been  my  money;  but  that  I  reckon  to 
make  up.  So  here " — he  took  a  paper  from  his 
pocket — "that  is  for  arms,  or  what  else  they  need. 


46  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN   STEEL. 

It  is  not  much,  but  it  is  twice  what  I  could  have 
spared  if  I  had  been  with  them." 

Seth  looked  at  the  check  and  blushed. 

"  Say,  John,  this  is  hardly  fair.  Two  thousand 
dollars — what  does  it  all  mean  ?  Come,  man  " — his 
jealousy  fading  out  before  the  suffering  he  saw  in  the 
stern  face — "  come  with  me  and  talk  it  over  quietly. 
I  will  find  some  way,  I  know,  to  fix  your  scruples  off. 
We  want  the  man,  not  his  money." 

But  John  turned  away. 

"  Thank  you,  friend,  for  that;  but  I  have  no  lei- 
sure to  talk — it  wall  be  waste  of  time.  The  money  is 
nothing.  It  belongs  to  the  boys.  Tell  them  so — 
from  me." 

He  took  up  his  hat,  and  without  a  glance  at  Jean 
went  quickly  away.  As  he  passed  Seth  he  looked 
him  steadily  in  the  face — and  they  shook  hands. 


CHAPTEE    V. 

Feeling  ran  very  high  in  Chippewa  when  it  was 
known  that  John  had  resigned  the  captaincy  of  the 
company,  and  was  not  going  to  volunteer  at  all.  But 
for  his  many  friends  his  personal  safety  would  have 
been  in  danger  when  he  came  into  town  the  next  day. 
He  was  jeered  at  in  the  streets;  boys  threw  stones  at 
him,  asked  tenderly  after  his  health,  and  called  him 
"  home  guard,"  while  many  acquaintances  cut  him 
entirely,  and  even  old  friends  passed  him  with  the 
coldest  of  greetings.  Only  one  man  had  a  word  to 
say  in  his  favour,  and  laughed  at  the  suggestion  that 
he  stayed  at  home  from  bodily  fear.  This  was  Seth. 
His  motives  were  a  little  mixed,  perhaps,  for  nothing 
was  calculated  to  improve  his  own  position  more  than 
generous  championship  of  the  man  whose  place  he 
had  taken;  but  he  meant  all  he  said,  and  found  a  real 
pleasure  in  his  attempt  to  vindicate  John.  Not  that 
he  was  successful.  It  was  a  time  of  wild  enthusiasm; 
old  friendships,  even  ties  of  blood,  were  forgotten, 
and  the  majority  of  people,  whatever  they  did  them- 
selves, cried  shame  upon  any  man  who  refused  to  en- 
list for  the  war,  while  those  who  came  forward  were 
extolled  by  the  platform  orators  and  the  press  as 
heroes  of  rarest  kind.     As  for  Seth,  he  found  himself 

47 


48  THE   GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL. 

a  celebrity  in  a  week.  The  local  paper  produced  a 
fanciful  sketch  of  his  life,  and  prophesied  that 
through  his  achievements  Chippewa  would  become 
famous  and  world-renowned.  In  the  same  issue 
mention  was  made  of  John's  gift  to  the  company. 
He  was  duly  thanked  for  his  generosity,  but  not  with- 
out an  insinuation  that  he  had  done  it  to  save  his 
own  skin.  Seth  read  the  paragraph  Just  before  he 
had  made  an  appointment  at  the  Selbys',  and  was 
so  angry  that  he  could  not  resist  expressing  his  feel- 
ings to  Jean.     He  met  with  a  cold  response. 

"■  I  am  not  convinced  that  the  editor  is  wrong," 
she  said.  "  No,"  as  Seth  would  have  interposed, 
"  you  need  not  trouble  to  tell  me  anything.  I  would 
be  glad  if  you  did  not  mention  his  name.  I  am  so 
bitterly  disappointed,  that  I  would  rather  not  hear 
anything  about  it.  Our  friendship  is  dead  and  done 
with.  I  could  never  respect  a  man  again  who  could 
turn  back,  from  any  cause,  when  his  country  needed 
him,  and  his  friends  called  him  to  the  front  as  the 
boys  called  John.  His  being  an  old  friend  makes  it 
worse.  Indeed,  I  have  put  him  out  of  my  mind  once 
for  all.  The  war — and  your  plans — are  what  in- 
terest me.  Tell  me  everything  you  can,  you  will 
never  make  me  tired." 

Seth  needed  no  second  invitation.  The  first 
practical  step  the  Government  were  taking  was  to 
send  an  officer  of  the  regular  army  to  inspect  the  vol- 
unteers and  formally  enrol  them.  They  expected 
him  daily.  In  the  mean  time  Seth  was  learning  his 
drill  manual  as  fast  as  possible,  and  practising  sword- 
exercise  under  the  guidance  of  an  old  book  on  fencing 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  49 

he  had  picked  up.  A  happy  thought  struck  him 
that  he  would  ask  Jean  to  hear  him  his  drill.  She 
agreed  at  once,  and  from  that  day  forth  Seth  was  at 
the  store  every  evening,  and  as  Luke  was  very  busy, 
and  Mrs.  Selby  had  her  children  to  put  to  bed,  these 
evenings  were  mostly  spent  with  Jean  alone. 

Jean  was  not  destined,  however,  to  forget  John  as 
easily  as  she  apparently  wished  to  do. 

"  Jennie,"  said  her  mother  one  afternoon,  sitting 
down  to  sew  at  the  table  where  Jean  was  poring  over 
a  newspaper,  "  what  is  this  your  father  tells  me  about 
you  and  John?  Surely  there  can  be  no  abiding  quar- 
rel between  you  and  your  oldest  friend?" 

Jean  looked  up  from  her  reading  with  a  flushed 
and  angry  face. 

"  Did  not  father  tell  you  what  he  has  done?  " 

"  I  understand  that  he  don't  feel  like  going  to  the 
war." 

"  Isn't  that  enough  ?     It  is  for  me." 

Jean  dashed  her  paper  upon  the  table,  smoothed 
it  out  with  a  rustle,  and  began  to  read  again. 

Mrs.  Selby  stopped  sewing,  adjusted  her  spec- 
tacles, and  looked  at  her  daughter  with  an  expression 
of  dumb  surprise  which  Jean  found  exceedingly  try- 
ing. It  had  not  entered  Mrs.  Selby's  head  for  years 
to  question,  much  less  find  fault  with,  any  opinion  or 
action  of  Jean's.  The  girl  was  clever,  high-spirited, 
and  had  received  a  good  education — or  her  mother 
thought  so — while  Mrs.  Selby  believed  herself  to  be 
the  must  stupid  and  most  ignorant  of  human  beings. 
Jean,  so  Mrs.  Selby  told  her  friends  with  simple  pride, 
could  talk  politics  like  a  man,  and  read  books  which 


50  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

her  mother,  when  she  peeped  into  them  quietly,  could 
not  understand  in  the  least.  And  Jean  had  opinions 
upon  subjects  of  which  girls  were  not  allowed  to 
speak  in  Mrs.  Selby's  youth,  opinions  chiefly  concern- 
ing the  position  in  the  universe  Providence  had  in- 
tended men — and  women — to  occupy.  Mrs.  Selby 
looked  up  with  respect  to  mankind  in  general  as  long 
as  they  did  not  "  fuss  round "  the  house.  Jean 
seemed,  in  her  mother's  eyes,  to  consider  men  created 
to  do  the  behest  of  women;  and  as  most  of  the  men 
they  knew  did  what  Jean  told  them  without  a  mur- 
mur, Mrs.  Selby  could  not  contradict  her.  John,  it 
was  true,  had  been  an  exception  to  this  rule,  and  Mrs. 
Selby  had  secretly  enjoyed  the  way  he  would  at  times 
stand  squarely  opposed  to  Jean  and  all  her  opinions, 
and  had  not  failed  to  note  that  in  the  end  he  had 
gained  respect  and  consideration  by  doing  so.  So 
much,  indeed,  had  this  been  the  case,  that  the  news 
that  Jean  had  cast  his  friendship  away,  and  turned 
her  back  upon  him  as  on  one  disgraced,  gave  a  shock 
to  Mrs.  Selby's  nature  that  roused  her  from  her  cus- 
tomary submissive  attitude  into  determined  atten- 
tion. 

"  Jennie,  my  dear,  I  do  not  understand." 
Down  went  the  paper  upon  the  table  again. 
"  'No,  nor  docs  any  one  else;  but  it  appears  to  be 
a  fact." 

"  I  mean — I  don't  understand  you." 
"  Me!     Why,  mother,  do  you  suppose  I  would 
have  anything  to  do  with  a  coward? — not  if  he  were 
my  own  brother." 

"  Who  says  John  is  a  coward  ?  " 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  51 

Jean  dropped  her  paper  and  looked  up.  She  had 
never  heard  her  mother  speak  in  so  stern  a  tone. 

"  Father  said  so." 

"  He  ain't  mentioned  the  word  to  me." 

"  He  said  it  in  John's  presence." 

"Wliat  did  the  boy  reply?" 

"  Denied  it,  of  course.  But  when  I  asked  him 
why  he  would  not  volunteer  he  refused  to  give  any 
reason.  Talk  of  being  old  friends!  If  he  cared  for 
that  at  all,  he  would  not  have  treated  me  so.  But 
he  would  say  nothing — not  a  word." 

"  I  guess  I  know  why  that  is,"  Mrs.  Selby  said  in 
a  thoughtful  tone;  "  it's  his  mother — yet  he  keeps 
close  about  it,  'cos  she  would  about  die  if  she  were  to 
think  he  held  back  for  her." 

A  blush  rose  to  Jean's  face,  and  she  started  sud- 
denly— then  put  the  thought  aside. 

"  That  cannot  be — I  asked  him  direct.  He  said 
it  was  not." 

Mrs.  Selby  looked  puzzled. 

"  I  can't  heft  his  reasons,  then;  but  I  am  right 
sure  they  are  good  ones." 

"  The  only  one  I  can  think  of  is  very  bad — the 
fear  of  being  killed." 

Jean  spoke  with  withering  scorn. 

"  Well,  you  know,"  Mrs.  Selby  rejoined  with  ex- 
asperating coolness,  "  I  ain't  sure  that  this  may  not 
be  in  it.  John  lives  a  useful  life;  he  has  his  mother  ■ 
to  support,  and  a  rare  big  farming  business.  It 
would  be  more  than  foolish — I  would  call  it  wicked — 
if  he  went  off  to  the  war  unless  he  had  to  go.  And 
that  is  far  from  being  so;  Luke  says  the  boys  all 


62  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

around  the  North  are  gettin'  mad  to  fight.  There  will 
be  plenty  without  him." 

"Thank  Heaven!  yes,"  cried  Jean,  so  irritated 
and  angry  at  her  mother's  attitude,  that  she  could 
have  slapped  her.  "  There  are  brave  men  left.  If 
one  disappoints  us,  there  is  always  another  to  take  his 
place." 

Mrs.  Selby  sighed  helplessly. 

"  I  do  not  understand  one  little  bit.  Seems  as  if 
you  want  John  to  be  killed.     Is  that  it?  " 

"  Mother!  "  Jean  stamped  her  foot.  Then  by  a 
great  effort  controlled  herself,  snatched  up  her  paper, 
and  went  to  her  room,  locking  herself  in,  and  walking 
up  and  down  to  cool. 

"How  stupid  she  is — how  stupid!"  she  said 
aloud.  "  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  or  say  one  of 
these  days  if  she  goes  on  so.  It  is  wrong,  horribly 
wrong,  to  think  this  way  of  one's  mother;  but  I  can- 
not help  it.  It  is  true.  What  can  be  worse  than 
this? — because  I  want  John  to  be  a  man,  she  supposes 
that  I  wish  he  was  dead;  or  that  I  am  picking  a  hole 
because  I  want  to  quarrel!  I  want  to  quarrel? 
Why,  I  would  give — what  would  I  not  give  to  have 
things  as  they  were  before?  I  am  miserable — miser- 
able— I  mean  I  hate  that  he  should  have  turned  out 
so.  Should  I  be  so  bitter,  does  she  think,  if  I  had 
not  cared  so  much?  But  there,  it  is  over.  To  worry 
about  it  any  more  is  quite  absurd.  If  John  is  a 
coward,  Seth  turns  out  different  from  anything  I 
had  expected.  These  times  of  trial  do  test  a  man. 
The  heat  and  stress  shrivels  up  one,  but  it  makes  an- 
other greater  and  nobler  than  he  could  ever  be  with- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  53 

out  it.  But  dear,  dear,  what  can  the  time  be?  I 
promised  to  meet  Seth  at  five;  he  will  have  been  wait- 
ing quite  a  while." 

She  laved  her  face  in  cold  water,  and  then  exam- 
ined her  eyes  in  the  glass,  and  frowned.  They  were 
distinctly  red. 

At  the  Burletson  homestead  in  these  stirring  days 
life  went  much  as  usual.  Mrs.  Burletson  never  drove 
to  town  except  on  Sundays,  and  knew  nothing  at  the 
time  of  the  reception  John  had  encountered.  John 
had  made  little  of  it  even  to  himself.  After  what 
Jean  had  said,  the  opinions  of  his  friends  and  the 
gibes  of  the  rest  were  nothing.  Yet  her  words  were 
what  he  had  expected.  He  had  not  realized  before- 
hand all  that  it  would  mean  to  him.  His  chief  anx- 
iety was  to  prevent  his  mother  knowing  what  he  suf- 
fered, and  especially  to  guard  against  the  least  sus- 
picion that  he  had  made  the  sacrifice  for  her.  At 
first  he  despaired  of  this.  Mrs.  Burletson  was  an  ex- 
ceedingly transparent  person;  and  John  saw  that, 
though  she  said  nothing  after  he  had  told  her  he 
could  not  volunteer,  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that 
he  wanted  to  go,  and  he  suspected  that  she  was  only 
keeping  quiet  because  her  busy  brain  was  thinking  of 
some  way  to  bring  it  all  about.  But,  as  it  happened, 
a  new  turn  was  given  to  Mrs.  Burletson's  ideas  by 
the  very  thing  John  had  carefully  concealed  from  her 
— what  was  said  of  him  in  town.  The  news  was  told 
to  her  by  the  Eeverend  Septimus  Haniman,  their 
minister,  the  kindliest  of  men,  who  thought  that  she 
ought  to  know  it.  He  did  it  very  gently;  but  no 
delicacy  of  handling  could  remove  the  significance 


54  THE  aOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

of  the  slight  to  John — and  at  the  notion  that  he  was 
misunderstood  Mrs.  Burletson  caught  fire. 

"  Is  that  what  they  say?  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone 
that  caused  Mr.  Haniraan  to  hunt  for  his  hat,  and 
make  up  his  mind  that  he  was  urgently  wanted  at 
home.  "  They  dare  to  call  my  son  a  coward!  They 
dare!  Then  I  quit,  at  once  and  for  always,  what  I 
had  in  my  mind  to  do.  I  had  thought  of  taking  a 
place  in  a  boarding-house,  and  so  fixing  things  that 
John  could  not  but  leave  here  unless  he  wanted  to 
live  alone — for  I  am  sure  that  my  comfort  is  in  his 
mind,  whatever  else  lays  there  as  well — but  now  I 
will  not  do  it.  No;  such  mean,  pitiful-minded  folk 
as  these  shall  never  drive  him  from  his  home.  Even 
Luke  Selby?  I  never  trusted  that  man's  face.  I 
wonder  what  Jean — but  never  mind.  I  do  not  con- 
sider the  opinion  of  any  man  or  woman  in  Chippewa 
worth  anything  now.  Going,  Mr.  Haniman?  Then 
see,  good  friend,  should  you  happen,  as  you  must,  to 
be  in  conversation  with  those  who  have  spoken  so 
about  John,  tell  them  from-  me  that  I  should  feel 
honoured  if  they  would  come  to  see  me,  and  say  to 
my  face  what  they  talk  about  behind  his  back.  I  will 
guarantee,  Mr.  Haniman,  that  I  would  find  ways  to 
cause  every  one  to  regret  that  he  had  ever  opened  his 
slanderous  lips.     Good  afternoon  to  you." 

Then  Mr.  Haniman  escaped,  thankful  and  a  little 
out  of  breath.  But  though  for  weeks  afterward  Mrs. 
Burletson  religiously  donned  her  best  black  silk  gown 
and  prepared  to  receive  callers,  nobody  ever  came. 
She  did  not  say  much  to  John.  Deep  and  true  as 
their  love  was  for  one  another.  John  was  too  re- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  55 

served  ever  to  speak,  even  to  his  mother,  of  the  wound 
Jean's  hand  had  given  him,  and  Mrs.  Burletson, 
though  aching  to  know  all  about  it,  never  dreamed  of 
asking  questions.  She  saw  that  from  that  day  forth 
John  worked  as  she  had  never  known  him  work  be- 
fore, and  that  when  he  spent  an  hour  with  her  in  the 
evenings  he  was  silent  and  absent-minded,  and  took 
little  interest  in  anything  bvit  the  newspapers.  If 
this  hurt  her  at  times,  she  never  let  him  see  it.  In 
his  presence  she  was  always  bright  and  cheerful,  and 
his  sore  heart  was  comforted  in  its  bitter  pain  by  the 
thought  that  she,  at  least,  was  happy. 

One  evening,  a  month  from  that  never-to-be-for- 
gotten Sunday  morning,  he  came  in  earlier  than 
usual,  and  after  supper  drew  his  chair  close  to  her 
and  kissed  her. 

"  Mother,  I  have  been  poor  company  of  late." 

"  Your  work,  John,  has  taken  up  the  time.  I 
never  wish  that  you  should  give  up  that  for  me." 

"  It  was  a  bitterness  in  my  heart  that  made  me 
work  so.     I  have  been  very  bitter." 

"  You  have  had  cause,"  she  said  between  her 
teeth. 

"Hush!  do  not  say  that.  It  is  not  true,  either, 
for  I  had  nothing  less  to  expect.  I  see  that  now, 
now  that  the  worst — the  worst  for  me,  I  mean — has 
come.  I  was  foolish  to  worry.  And  so  far  as  it  has 
taught  me  my  folly,  this  blow  has  done  me  good." 

Mrs.  Burletson  looked  up  anxiously. 

"The  worst?  what  does  that  mean?  I  thought 
the  worst  had  come  before." 

"I  thought  so  too;  I  was  wrong."     He  stooped 


56  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

to  pick  up  her  ball  of  worsted,  "  Jean — Jean  has 
'become  engaged  to  be  married,  mother,  to  Seth,  the 
schoolmaster." 

Mrs.  Burletson  sat  perfectly  still  in  her  chair,  but 
he  felt  her  stiffen  all  over. 

"How  do  you  feel,  son?  Do  it  crush  you — or 
what?" 

He  did  not  reply.  His  fingers  were  busy  with  the 
worsted  ball,  which  had  come  unwound. 

"  Tell  me  how  you  feel,  John." 

"  It  is  not  easy,"  he  said  at  last,  carefully  keep- 
ing his  face  from  her.  "  It  seems  strange — kind  as 
if  I  were  dreaming.  For  Jean,  you  know,  has  seemed 
always,  even  since  that  day  I  told  her  I  could  not  go 
to  the  war,  to  belong  to  me.  Yet  the  news  is  true, 
and  reasonable  enough.  I  believe  it  is  right,  though 
I  cannot  see  it  that  way." 

He  sighed,  then  took  his  mother's  hand,  and 
stroked  it  lovingly. 

"  Never  mind;  I  have  you.  You  are  worth  them 
all." 

"  I  am  not,  John.  Though  I  may  be  worth 
something  while  I  live,  I  am  very  old  and  ailing. 
For  long,  very  long  now,  I  have  looked  to  Jean — 
though  I  never  thought  her  worthy  of  my  boy — to 
make  you  happy,  when  the  Lord  took  me.  Now, 
what  is  to  be  when  I  am  gone?  Who  will  comfort 
and  care  for  you?     Oh,  she  is " 

"Don't,  mother." 

Mrs.  Burletson  looked  dangerous. 

"I  must  speak  my  mind,  John.  I  will  to  her 
some  dav.     If  vou  are  not  bitter,  I  am  for  both  of  us. 


THE   GOSPEL   WRIT   IN   STEEL.  57 

What  does  it  all  mean?  Do  you  tell  me  she  has  done 
this  because  you  refused  to  volunteer?  " 

"  That  was  the  beginning.  Jean,  you  know,  has 
strong  views." 

"  She  has  no  heart,  John,  and  little  sense.  There, 
I  will  stop.  But  God  is  very  hard  upon  you,  my  own 
boy.  Yet  I  pity  her — she  does  not  know  what  she 
has  lost.  She  was  never  worthy  of  you.  God  knows 
that.  Yet  it  is  hard,  for  I  cannot  live  much  longer, 
and  you  are  not  a  man  to  live  alone." 

"  I  shall  be  one  of  many.  See,  now,  let  us  face  it, 
and  look  at  a  brighter  side.  We  will  have  great 
times,  you  and  I.  I  shall  get  home  earlier  from  work 
than  I  have  done,  and  we  will  read  together.  The 
present  is  ours,  mother.  The  future,  as  you  have 
often  told  me,  need  not  be  taken  till  it  comes." 

He  kissed  her,  and  she  leant  against  his  shoulder, 
while  the  shadows  of  the  evening  darkened  around 
them. 

"  My  precious  son,"  she  whispered  tremulously, 
"  you  are  my  life.  It  is  all  the  world  to  me  to  have 
you  here.  I  would  not  have  said  it  if  I  thought 
there  would  be  any  chance  now  that  you'd  wish  to  go 
to  the  war.  But  as  things  are,  I  may  tell  you  all  my 
mind.  I  do  not  think,  John,  I  should  have  lived  a 
month  from  the  day  you  started  South." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

The  spring  of  1861,  after  the  taking  of  Fort 
Sumter,  was  a  time  when  tlie  feelings  of  every  Ameri- 
can were  wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch.  From  day 
to  day,  from  hour  to  hour,  people  were  expecting  to 
hear  news  of  national  significance.  There  was  the 
danger  to  Washington;  the  plots  to  assassinate  Mr. 
Lincoln;  the  secession  of  Virginia  when  demand  was 
made  upon  her  to  supply  her  quota  of  militia;  the 
riots  in  Baltimore,  when  the  first  regiment  of  North- 
ern troops,  the  6th  Massachusetts,  passed  through  on 
their  way  to  protect  Washington.  All  these  things, 
with  a  thousand  rumours— laughable  now,  terribly 
serious  then — were  poured  upon  the  pul)lic  by  the 
press,  week  after  week,  until  excitable  people  could 
scarcely  eat  or  sleep,  and  thought  and  dreamt  of  noth- 
ing but  the  war.  Jean  was  one  of  these.  Under  the 
guidance  of  her  closest  friend,  Mrs.  Haniman,  the 
minister's  wife,  she  had  been  imbibing  abolitionist 
literature  of  the  most  extreme  type  for  a  long  while. 
When  the  time  for  action  came  she  would  have  given 
worlds  to  have  been  a  man,  and  could  only  comfort 
herself  by  urging  every  man  she  knew  to  volunteer. 
The  enthusiasm  and  fire  in  Seth's  nature  was  an 
infinite  support  to  her.  He  seemed  to  read  her 
58 


THE   GOSPEL   WRIT   IN  STEEL.  59 

thoughts,  and  say  and  do  just  those  things  she  ex- 
pected from  him  at  such  a  time.  Then  he  was  to 
command  the  compan3^  He  seemed,  in  her  eyes,  to 
have  grown  in  dignity  and  power;  and  while  others — 
men  twice  his  size — spoke  of  him  with  respect  as  one 
who  would  be  a  leader  of  men,  there  was  a  delightful 
secret  consciousness  in  Jean's  heart  that  she  was  lead- 
ing him;  that  every  important  step  he  took  was  re- 
ferred to  her  first  for  approval,  and  sometimes  was  her 
own  suggestion.  She  was  realizing  a  dream  of  her 
life,  and  directly  influencing  the  lives  of  others. 
With  this  feeling,  however,  came  the  consciousness 
that  there  could  only  be  one  end  to  it  all.  Seth's  face 
was  an  open  book,  and  days  before  he  declared  him- 
self Jean  knew  what  was  coming.  At  any  other  time, 
impulsive  as  she  was,  Jean  would  have  hesitated  be- 
fore she  pledged  her  life  to  one  whom  until  very  late- 
ly she  had  only  thought  of  as  a  friend,  and  not  the 
most  valued  of  her  friends.  Many  who  knew  her 
were  astounded  when  they  heard  of  the  engagement, 
for  no  one  had  ever  thought  of  Jean  as  inclined  to 
marriage.  In  this  they  were  right;  but  it  is  a  fact, 
not  often  recognised,  that  in  times  of  excitement  the 
girl  who  has  never  dreamt  of  marrying  makes  the 
first  plunge. 

The  news  was  taken  by  Luke  Selby  with  the  philo- 
sophical resignation  characteristic  of  a  properly  con- 
stituted American  parent. 

"  It  is  not  the  choice  I  would  have  made,"  he  said  • 
to  his  wife.     "  John  was  the  man.     He  has  more 
brains  in  one  finger  than  there  is  in   Seth's  head. 
John,  if  he  had  behaved  as  he  ought,  would  have  been 


60  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

top  of  the  tree  before  this  war  played  out.  Curse  his 
foolishness!  'Tis  that  which  has  done  it  all.  But 
you  cannot  get  away  from  facts.  He  went  back  on 
his  bond — leastways  climbed  out  after  I'd  helped  him 
in — while  Seth  played  up  to  the  music,  and  put  in  at 
the  right  moment.  We  must  make  the  best  of  it, 
Martha.  There's  one  thing — Jean  holds  Seth  as 
tight  as  I  hold  my  store,  and  with  her  eternal  energy 
will  keep  him  waltzing  to  time.  If  Seth  don't  con- 
tinue to  make  things  jig,  he  will  get  blue  brimstone 
for  his  wife." 

To  all  of  which  wisdom  Mrs.  Selby  had  replied — 

"  Jean  is  a  woman — or  thinks  she  is.  But  she  is 
a  fool.  Will  ye  have  baked  apple-fritters  again  for 
supper,  or  are  you  tired  of  them?  " 

Luke  turned  in  his  chair  and  looked  at  his  wife 
with  interest. 

"  Martha,  your  feelings  must  have  been  many  to 
have  crowded  out  such  words  as  these.  Wait,  I  say, 
wait  and  see  how  things  eventuate.  I  have  heard 
that  folks  get  shot  sometimes  when  they  go  to  war. 
Jean  will  be  older  and  wiser,  maybe,  later  on." 

In  the  afternoon  of  this  day,  only  twenty-four 
hours  after  Seth  had  won  his  victory,  a  man  in  blue 
uniform  alighted  from  a  western  bound  train  at  the 
Chippewa  depot,  and  inquired  the  way  to  Selby's 
store. 

"  My  name  is  Simpson,"  he  said  to  Luke,  in  a  de- 
cidedly abrupt  and  not  over-polite  tone,  as  the  store- 
keeper advanced  with  his  blandest  smile,  "I  have 
authority  from  Colonel  Peck,  commanding  the  2nd 
Wisconsin  Regiment  of  volunteers,  to  enrol  the  men 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  61 

of  this  town  whose  names  are  down  for  enlistment. 
I  was  referred  to  you." 

"  I  am  proud  to  make  your  acquaintance.  Major/' 
Luke  answered,  extending  a  hand  of  friendship, 
which,  however,  the  soldier  failed  to  see.  A  military 
man  of  the  old  school,  Major  Simpson  looked  upon 
civilians  of  Luke  Selby's  type  with  a  dislike  too  deep 
for  words.  "  A  blasted  political  wire-puller,"  was 
his  inward  comment.  "  I  will  have  no  truck  with 
him."  And  he  kept  his  word.  At  this  moment 
Seth,  who  had  run  post-haste  to  the  store  when  he 
heard  of  the  major's  arrival,  came  up.  Luke  turned 
to  him  with  relief. 

"  Major,  this  gentleman  is  in  command  of  the 
company — allow  me  to  introduce " 

"  I  have  heard  of  him,"  Major  Simpson  said  with 
a  slight  change  of  manner;  "  Mr.  Burletson,  I  pre- 
sume. "Well,  sir,  are  there  many,  think  you,  of  the 
boys  here  who  will  pass  a  doctor's  examination  and 
stand  company  drill?  I  have  met  precious  few  so 
far." 

Seth  blushed. 

'■■'  My  name  is  Cotton,  sir — major,  I  mean.  John 
Burletson  resigned,  and  the  boys  elected  me." 

"  Did  they  so?  "  said  the  major  with  a  grim  arch 
of  the  eyebrows.  "  You  feel  honoured,  no  doubt. 
Unfortunately  it  is  my  duty  to  inform  you,  Mr.  Cot- 
ton, that  in  our  regiment  all  who  enlist  begin  from 
the  ranks.  Promotion,  if  it  comes,  will  only  com- 
mence after  service  in  the  field  and  for  special  merit. 
Now  to  business.     Step  this  way,  will  you,  please?  " 

This  was  a  direct  hint  to  Luke  that  his  presence 
5 


62  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL. 

was  not  desired.  The  store-keeper  was  highly  in- 
dignant, and  felt  disposed,  he  said  afterward,  to 
question  then  and  there  Major  Simpson's  authority, 
and  send  in  a  strong  complaint  of  his  behaviour  to 
headquarters.  That  he  did  not  do  the  first  may  be 
accounted  for  by  a  certain  inflexibility  about  the 
major.  To  attack  him  would  be  rather  too  much 
like  striking  a  piece  of  cold  iron;  while  the  second 
course,  though  comforting  to  think  of,  was  not  easy 
to  put  into  practice.  So  for  the  time,  at  any  rate, 
Luke  made  the  best  of  it,  retired  to  his  business,  and 
swallowed  his  pride,  while  the  major  and  Seth  went 
outside  the  store. 

"  Have  you  seen  service?  "  the  major  said. 

"  I  have  read  a  good  amount,  and  am  nearly 
through  learning  my  drill  manual." 

"  Drill  fiddlestick!  "  was  the  testy  answer.  "  Ex- 
actly what  I  expected.  Lucky  our  colonel  is  a  man 
of  sense,  and  that  we  can  find  officers  who  know 
something.  What  most  of  the  array  will  be  like,  the 
devil  only  knows,  with  officers  holding  command  at 
the  pleasure  of  their  men,  and  whose  knowledge  be- 
gins and  ends  with  a  book.  Let  me  see  these  boys. 
To-morrow  the  doctor  will  be  here,  and  my  drill- 
sergeant.  Do  you  suppose  we  shall  get  a  dozen  to 
stay  when  they  find  we  mean  business?  Speak  your 
mind,  lad." 

He  looked  Seth  up  and  down,  measuring  him  with 
one  shrewd  glance. 

"  I  guess  most  of  them  will  stay.  We  mean  busi- 
ness, too;  as  for  myself,  it  was  not  at  my  request  they 
made  me  captain." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  63 

"  Well  said,"  grunted  the  major.  "  I  am  glad  to 
hear  that.  It  may  come,  you  know,  in  a  better  way. 
Are  those  the  men  ?  " 

The  news  of  the  "  army-major's  "  arrival  had  flown 
through  town,  and  the  company  to  a  man  had  col- 
lected round  the  store — many  of  its  younger  members 
first  embracing  their  mothers  and  sisters,  under  a 
vague  impression  that  they  were  going  to  the  front 
that   afternoon. 

"  Put  them  through  their  facings,"  the  major  said, 
with  another  quick  glance  at  his  companion.  "  Let 
me  see  how  far  you  have  brought  them." 

Seth  went  hot  all  over.  This  Major  Simpson 
was  a  little  man,  a  head  and  shoulders  shorter  than 
himself,  but  in  his  squarely  set  figure,  alert  bearing, 
severe  eyes,  and  sarcastic  smile,  there  was  a  sug- 
gestion of  power  and  superior  knowledge  that  was 
most  unnerving.  Then  the  boys!  For  two  weeks 
Seth  had  struggled,  two  hours  daily,  to  get  them  into 
line — and  keep  them  there — and  persuade  them  to 
attempt  the  simplest  of  evolutions.  There  were 
countless  difficulties,  the  chief  one  being  that  few 
would  drill  more  than  half  an  hour  at  a  time.  They 
said  they  were  tired,  and  either  sat  down  to  smoke  or 
strolled  off  for  a  drink,  returning  to  their  places  later 
on — from  the  strongest  sense  of  duty,  they  said — 
only  to  make  the  confusion  of  the  rest  worse  con- 
founded. This  afternoon,  under  the  eye  of  the 
major,  who  stood  at  a  little  distance  looking  on  with 
frozen  imperturbability,  the  gallant  volunteers  of 
Chippewa  made  tremendous  efforts  to  do  credit  to 
their   captain   and   themselves.     Only   once    did   an 


64  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL. 

elderly  man,  a  tailor  by  trade,  who  was  hard  of  hear- 
ing and  irritable,  ask  Seth  to  "  holler  louder."  No 
one  offered  to  leave  the  ranks  or  even  suggested  that 
his  throat  was  dry.  Sturdily  they  stood  and  did 
their  very  best.  A  motley  crowd.  Here  a  man  in 
silk-hat,  broadcloth,  and  fine  linen;  next  him  a  far- 
mer, in  flannel  shirt  and  blue-jean  pants;  a  clerk, 
weedy  and  pasty-faced,  with  delicate  fingers;  a  labour- 
er, dirty,  ragged,  and  hard-handed;  a  lad  of  seven- 
teen, the  doctor's  son;  Luke's  cashier,  a  rheumatic 
bachelor  of  fifty;  men  of  every  rank  and  every  age, 
yet  all  animated  with  the  same  spirit — willing  to 
leave  their  homes  and  give  their  lives  for  the  Union 
cause. 

Never  will  Seth  forget  that  day.  He  had  a  good 
memory  and  a  good  voice,  but  he  could  not  make 
others  do  what,  except  in  theory,  he  had  never  done 
himself.  It  was  a  time  of  bitter  torture  to  him,  while 
his  men,  rather  pleased  with  themselves,  wheeled  and 
marched  at  the  word  of  command — in  different  direc- 
tions; came  to  attention  in" a  variety  of  ways — none 
of  them  correct;  saluted  when  told  to  "  dress  by  the 
right; "  and,  worst  of  all,  came  into  violent  collision 
with  one  another  at  the  words  "  right  about  turn." 

"  It  has  been  the  poorest  kind  of  show,"  he  said 
hoarsely  to  the  major  when  the  men  were  at  last  dis- 
missed.    "  I  guess  drilling  is  not  in  me." 

"  It  will  be  in  you  as  much  as  any  one  else  when 
you  have  been  taught,"  was  the  reply,  in  so  kindly  a 
tone,  that  Seth  could  have  hugged  him.  "  If  you 
cannot  handle  men,  you  will  a  musket.  To-morrow 
my  sergeant  shall  take  hold  of  this  awkward  squad. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  65 

He'll  bring  them  into  shape  in  good  time.  There  is 
better  stuff  among  your  folk  than  I  expected.  You 
will  see  what  drilling  means  when  Silas  Horrocks 
comes." 

Seth  did  see.  First,  in  the  morning,  every  man 
was  examined  by  a  sharp-voiced  military  surgeon, 
who  sent  a  fourth  of  them  back  to  their  homes  as 
useless  for  service,  deeply  hurting  their  susceptibili- 
ties. In  the  afternoon  came  the  sergeant,  a  big  man 
with  a  voice  of  brass,  a  will  of  iron,  the  patience  of 
an  angel,  and  the  eye  of  a  New  York  detective. 

"  He  put  us  through  that  blasted  drill,"  said  one 
of  the  "  squad  "  afterward,  "  until  the  perspiration 
shone  on  our  coat-tails.  If  war  makes  a  man  as 
thirsty  as  that  sergeant,  I  guess  we'll  drink  the  Poto- 
mac dry  when  we  get  there.  There  ain't  one  mite  of 
gilt-edge  left  to  this  volunteering  biz,  you  bet  your 
life  on  that." 

At  muster  the  following  day  many  brave  volun- 
teers who  had  cheered  themselves  hoarse  when  Sum- 
ter fell,  were  missing — most  of  them  giving  notice 
that  their  mothers  required  them  more  than  their 
country.  The  majority,  however,  stuck  to  the  flag; 
while,  as  for  Seth,  he  renounced  all  desire  or  claim 
to  be  an  officer,  and  took  his  place  with  perfect  good 
humour  as  a  private  in  the  ranks.  Jean  was  at  first 
very  indignant  that  he  should  have  been  obliged  to 
do  this,  and  suffered  a  keen  sense  of  personal  disap- 
pointment and  annoyance;  but  she  acknowledged 
that  he  had  played  the  part  of  a  sensible  man,  and 
soon  persuaded  herself  that  he  would  be  speedily  pro- 
moted when  his  real  qualities  as  a  leader  began  to 


66  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

show  themselves.  A  week  later  Major  Simpson 
drafted  his  Chippewa  recruits  to  a  camp  twenty  miles 
east,  where,  separated  from  business,  relations,  and 
love  affairs,  they  settled  down  to  drill  in  earnest.  It 
was  hard  and  weary  work  for  them.  At  first  the  men 
grumbled  because  they  had  no  rifles.  "  It  seemed 
poor  mean  soldiering,"  they  said,  "  to  fool  around 
with  nothing  in  one's  hands."  When  the  arms  came 
the  complaints  were  louder  than  before,  because  the 
rifles  were  so  heavy.  Then  they  had  a  spell  of  wet 
weather,  and  drilled  in  a  pool  of  mud;  and  the  food 
was  rough  and  hard,  and  some  fell  sick.  At  last, 
after  a  month  had  gone,  and  the  men  were  losing 
their  awkwardness,  and  their  officers  regaining  their 
tempers,  orders  came  that  the  2nd  Wisconsin  was  to 
go  to  the  front.  The  news  was  received  with  heart- 
felt cheers.  At  last  the  deadly  drill  was  over,  the 
monotony  of  doing  every  day  exactly  what  had  been 
done  the  day  before;  the  drudgery  and  weariness  of 
learning  by  constant  practice  that  which  appeared  so 
easy,  and  turned  out  to  be  so  hard — especially  for 
those  past  their  first  youth — was  at  an  end.  The 
first  campaign  was  to  begin;  "  On  to  Washington!  " 
was  the  cry.  Seth,  with  many  others,  got  leave  of 
absence  the  last  day,  and  spent  it  in  Chippewa.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  been  in  town  in  uniform, 
and  most  devoutly  did  he  wish  that  it  had  been  a 
better  fit.  His  trousers,  loose  and  baggy,  were  too 
long,  and  had  no  "  shape  "  at  all;  his  forage-cap,  with 
its  straight  pasteboard  peak  and  a  top  like  a  crushed 
concertina,  was  a  severe  trial  to  him;  his  overcoat, 
which  he  had  to  wear,  as  it  was  raining,  was  far  too 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  67 

big — the  collar  up  to  his  ears,  the  sleeves  down  to 
his  finger-tips.  But  it  was  a  uniform — the  visible 
sign  that  he  was  one  of  these  set  apart,  going  to  the 
war.  People  shook  hands  with  him  in  the  street. 
The  boys  cheered  rapturously,  and  Jean,  clinging  to 
his  arm,  with  shining  eyes,  thought  no  one  looked 
more  soldierlike  and  handsome.  And  through  the 
weary  weeks  that  followed,  on  the  day  of  battle,  and, 
worse  still,  the  day  after,  Jean's  farewell  kiss  and 
parting  words  were  an  unfailing  comfort  and  stimulus 
to  Seth.  He  loved  her  now  with  all  his  soul  and 
strength,  and  he  went  back  to  camp  that  night  de- 
termined to  prove  himself  to  be,  if  not  the  hero  she 
believed,  at  least  a  lover  of  whom  she  should  never 
be  ashamed.  Seth  could  see  that  Jean  valued  him 
at  more  than  he  was  worth — so  much  the  past  few 
weeks  had  taught  him.  He  was  not,  and  probably 
never  would  be,  a  commander  of  men,  and  yet  it  was 
that  above  everything  that  Jean  expected  him  to  be. 
But  after  all,  there  were  chances  in  the  game  of  war 
no  man  might  calculate.  He  would  do  his  best;  he 
would  never  turn  his  back  upon  the  enemy — the  rest 
lay  in  God's  hands. 

It  was  a  drizzling,  cold  and  miserable  evening 
when  the  regiment  prepared  to  embark  upon  the  train 
that  was  to  take  them  South.  A  number  of  the  re- 
lations of  the  men  had  come  to  the  depot  at  Mara- 
thon to  see  the  last  of  them.  Seth  had  no  one. 
Luke  Selby  said  he  was  too  busy  to  get  so  far;  Mrs. 
Selby  could  not  leave  her  little  ones;  and  Jean, 
though  willing  enough,  could  not  go  alone.  It  came 
about,  therefore,  that  Seth,  as  he  waited  on  the  plat- 


68  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

form  with  the  rest,  stood  alone,  while  the  boys  around 
him  chattered  with  fathers  and  brothers,  sweethearts 
or  wives.  A  wretched  choky  sensation  tickled  the 
back  of  his  throat,  and  he  walked  away  from  the  rest, 
feeling  very  forlorn  and  lonely.  It  was  a  little  hard 
that  there  should  not  be  one  hand  held  out  to  him, 
one  voice  to  wish  him  God-speed.  Truly  he  was  a 
solitary  dog,  and,  but  for  Jean,  not  a  soul  cared 
whether  he  lived  or  died.  "  And  even  Jean,"  he  said 
to  himself  in  a  momentary  fit  of  bitterness,  "  will  she 
mourn  long?  I  guess  not.  Burletson  is  there,  and 
when  the  war  is  done  I  shall  be  forgotten,  and  his 
day,  and  the  days  of  all  other  '  home-guards,'  will 
come.  A  cursed  cowardly  set."  He  set  his  teeth 
savagely,  then  coloured  to  the  brim  of  his  forage-cap, 
for  he  saw  a  familiar  figure  pushing  its  way  toward 
him  through  the  crowd — John  himself. 

"  I  came  around  here  to  see  you,"  John  said.  "  If 
you  are  engaged  with  others,  I  will  go  at  once.  I 
only  came  for  a  grip  of  the  hand." 

"  You  are  just  welcome,"  Seth  answered  huskily. 
"  I  feel  lonesome  as  a  boy  left  at  his  first  school.  But 
you  will  have  many  to  see  beside  me." 

"  I  came  to  you,"  John  answered  in  a  quiet 
tone.  "  No  one  else  at  all.  We  have  not  met  since 
I  heard  of  your  engagement,  and  I  felt  I  would  not 
wish  you  to  go  away  without  one  word  from  me,  be- 
cause  "     He  paused,  then  went  on,  looking  Seth 

straight  in  the  face  all  the  time,  "  Jean  is  my 
oldest  friend,  and,  until  two  months  since,  the  most 
intimate  I  had.  I  feel,  therefore,  kind  of  espe- 
cially interested   in   her.      It   makes   no    difference 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  QQ 

that  she  is  not  interested  in  me.     You  are  a  fortu- 
nate man,  Seth.     How  do  these  rifles  act?  " 

"  We  stand  first  in  the  regiment  there/'  Seth  said 
warmly,  studying  John's  face,  and  noticing  many 
things,  particularly  how  firm  the  lines  about  the 
mouth  had  grown.     It  was  a  grand,  strong  face. 

"John,"  he  cried,  "you  should  be  where  I  am 
now — only  that  you  would  hold  a  commission.     Why, 
why  did  you  hold  back — why  the  devil  did  you — you, ' 
the  best  of  us  all?  " 

Camp  life  had  not  improved  the  refinement  of 
Seth's  speech.  But  his  vehemence  was  heartfelt. 
John  coloured  slightly. 

"  I  had  my  reason,  and  that  reason  stays  with  me 
now  as  it  did  then.  Never  mind  me.  I  am  dead  and 
buried.  It  is  you  who  are  alive.  I  trust  you'll  come 
through  gaily.     I  know  it  will  not  be  second  best." 

The  hearty  words  warmed  Seth's  quick  enthu- 
siasm. 

"  I  will  try — enough,  if  only  for  her  sake.  A 
man  who  failed  with  Jean  behind  him  would  be  a 
skulk  indeed.  I  beg  your  pardon,"  suddenly  recol- 
lecting whom  he  was  speaking  to.  "  That  was  real 
mean  of  me." 

John  laughed,  a  genuine  laugh,  and  slapped  Seth- 
on  the  shoulder. 

"  Come,  come,  I  am  not  such  sugar-candy  as  that 
amounts  to,  if  I  am  a  '  home  guard.'  There's  the 
bugle.     Are  you  off?  " 

"  Yes;  see,  the  train  has  been  switched  in.  It 
will  be  good-bye  in  real  earnest  now." 

They  walked  to  the  cars,  and  Seth  swung  in  and 


70  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

took  up  a  place  near  the  door,  his  comrades  passing 
him.  They  were  mostly  Chippewa  men,  and  seeing 
John,  greeted  him  in  so  friendly  a  manner,  that  he 
Avas  quite  overcome.  He  had  steeled  his  heart  hy 
this  time  to  the  silent  contempt  and  coldness  of  his 
fellow-townsmen.  He  had  begun  to  take  it  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course.  This  behaviour  on  the  part  of  the  boys 
themselves  almost  unmanned  him.  On  their  side  his 
familiar  face  reminded  them  of  home;  his  resignation 
of  the  captaincy  was  a  thing  of  the  past,  while  his  gift 
of  money,  which  had  given  them  an  advantage  over 
their  comrades,  was  vividly  present  in  their  minds. 
The  consequence  was,  that  when  the  men  were  in 
their  places,  crowding  at  the  windows,  and  a  shrill- 
voiced  lad  shouted,  "  Three  cheers  for  Johnny  Bur- 
letson's  rifles!  "  they  hurrahed  with  a  will. 

"  All  aboard!  "  was  the  cry  now,  and  the  train  be- 
gan to  move.  Seth  stretched  half  his  body  through 
the  window,  and  shook  hands  for  the  last  time. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  cried,  'f  Take  care  of  her  till  I 
get  back,  if  I  ever  do.  God  bless  you,  John — Good- 
bye." The  train  moved  faster.  The  crowd  on  the 
platform  cheered;  the  soldiers  answered;  then  from 
Seth's  carriage  some  one  struck  up  "  John  Brown's 
body."  In  a  moment  the  song  w^as  caught  up  by  a 
hundred  voices,  and  to  the  sound  of  "  Glory,  glory, 
Hallelujah!"  sung  in  all  sorts  of  keys  to  no  time  at 
all,  the  train  with  its  great  cargo  of  flesh  and  blood 
departed  on  its  way,  and  John,  turning  back  to  where 
he  had  left  his  horse — for  he  had  ridden  all  the  way 
to  be  in  time — hid  his  face  on  the  good  beast's  neck, 
and  sobbed  like  a  child. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

The  summer  had  come,  and  now  at  last  the  armies 
of  the  North  and  the  South,  which  for  three  months 
had  been  drilling  and  drilling,  marching  a  little, 
fighting  hardly  at  all,  and  boasting  a  great  deal,  were 
to  meet  in  their  full  strength  and  fight  the  first  great 
battle  of  the  war.  There  had  been  isolated  engage- 
ments which,  as  usual,  the  press  on  either  side  had 
tried  to  magnify — when  their  friends  gained  the  ad- 
vantage— into  famous  victories;  but  nothing  had 
happened  as  yet  to  test  the  merits  of  the  combatants 
as  a  whole.  On  the  Union  side  there  were  whole 
regiments  which  had  never  fired  a  gun,  and  except 
for  small  contingents  of  regular  troops — most  of 
which  were  recruits — not  a  man  had  been  really 
trained  in  musketry  practice.  Not  a  doubt,  however, 
existed  from  one  end  of  the  North  to  the  other,  as  to 
the  certainty  of  a  great  victory  when  the  enemy  were 
met  at  last.  The  ordinary  evolutions  of  drill  had 
been  well  ground  into  the  recruits  during  these  three 
months  of  preparation;  their  equipment  had  been 
perfected.  When  the  soldiers  destined  for  the  first 
advance  southward,  thirty-four  thousand  strong,  de- 
filed before  the  President  at  Washington  on  the  15th 
day  of  July,  well  armed,  well  clothed,  full  of  mili- 

71 


72  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

tary  ardour,  their  bearing  erect,  their  faces  already 
tanned  by  exposure  in  camp,  it  was  no  wonder  that 
the  folk  throughout  the  North,  ignorant  of  the 
meaning  of  war,  led  by  editors  and  newspaper  corre- 
spondents as  ignorant  as  themselves,  should  believe 
that  these  men  could  conquer  a  continent,  and  march 
without  check  to  Richmond,  the  Confederate  capital. 
Many  went  so  far  as  to  count  the  days  when  Jefferson 
Davis,  as  arch-enemy  to  the  Union  cause,  would  be 
brought  to  Washington  to  be  tried  for  high  treason. 

In  well-informed  circles  the  rumour  went  that 
General  McDowell,  the  commander  of  the  army,  had 
protested  against  an  advance  being  made  so  soon, 
giving  as  his  reasons  the  inexperience  of  the  regi- 
mental officers,  and  the  want  of  any  real  discipline 
outside  the  drill-ground  among  the  men,  and  that  he 
had  declared  his  army  to  be  only  fit  for  defensive 
operations.  No  one  in  the  North,  except  a  few  mili- 
tary experts,  gave  credence  to  such  reports.  "  On  to 
Eichmond,"  was  the  universal "  cry,  and  on  the  army 
went,  blindly  and  exultantly,  accompanied  by  a  great 
number  of  civilians,  anxious  to  witness  the  triumphs 
of  the  champions  of  the  Union  cause. 

On  the  16th  day  of  July  the  march  began  from 
Washington  to  the  base  of  operations,  Centreville,  a 
town  twenty  miles  south.  The  Confederate  forces 
were  in  position  five  miles  further  on,  on  the  banks 
of  Bull  Run  Creek.  This  march  to  Centreville  will 
never  be  forgotten  until  the  memory  of  Bull  Run  has 
faded  from  the  minds  of  American  men.  "For  six 
miles  the  troops  marched  steadily;  then,  alas!  the 
point  of  llic  iinkiiul  n'marks  upon  their  discipline  be- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  73 

came  painfully  apparent.  In  nine  regiments  out  of 
ten  the  men  did  exactly  as  they  pleased.  The  day 
was  hot,  the  dust  ankle-deep,  the  rifles  became  heavier 
than  bars  of  solid  iron,  and  the  knapsacks  weighed 
upon  the  unaccustomed  hacks  which  bore  them  as  if 
their  contents  had  been  turned  into  lead.  Nor,  when 
the  nature  of  these  contents  is  considered,  was  this 
very  wonderful.  Seth's  kit  was  a  good  example  of 
the  rest:  a  pair  of  trousers,  a  pair  of  thick  boots,  four 
pairs  of  stockings,  four  flannel  shirts,  a  blouse,  a 
Bible,  a  volume  of  Shakespeare,  and  writing  and 
shaving  materials.  It  addition  to  these  necessaries 
-ihere  were,  rolled  upon  the  knapsack,  a  double 
woollen  blanket  and  a  waterproof.  Under  such  bur- 
dens the  stamina  of  the  volunteers  melted  like  butter 
in  the  sun.  One  by  one  at  first,  soon  by  scores  and  by 
hundreds,  they  fell  out  of  the  ranks  and  sat  down 
under  trees  to  rest  and  smoke;  when  they  passed  a 
stream  they  stopped  to  drink,  or  they  loitered  by  the 
roadside,  and  paused  to  pick  and  eat  blackberries. 
The  2nd  Wisconsin,  brigaded  with  the  13th,  69th,  and 
79th  New  York  Eegiments,  under  command  of  Colo- 
nel W.  T.  Sherman,  became  completely  mixed  up, 
and  but  for  a  fine  diversity  of  uniforms  which  pre- 
vailed in  both  armies  at  the  beginning  of  the  war, 
might  have  been  a  long  time  disentangling  them- 
selves. As  for  Seth  and  his  comrades  of  Company  A, 
to  their  credit  be  it  said,  they  neither  picked  black- 
berries nor  kicked  their  heels  on  fences,  but,  with  an 
occasional  rest,  marched  steadily  through.  Their 
captain  was  shrewd,  active  and  popular,  and  by  a  con- 
stant fire  of  sarcastic  pleasantry  at  the  expense  of 


74  THE   GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

laggards,  kept  his  men  together,  and  brought  them 
into  Centreville  on  the  second  day,  July  18th,  foot- 
sore and  very  weary.  At  Centreville  they  heard  the 
first  boom  of  cannon,  and  the  men  thought  a  great 
battle  had  begun.  They  eat  a  hasty  meal,  and  then 
many  began  stealthily  writing  letters  of  farewell  to 
loved  ones  at  home,  or  sat  about  in  groups  talking 
nervously.  Seth  was  on  sentry  duty.  As  he  paced 
to  and  fro,  his  eyes  scanning  the  fields  and  hillocks 
and  scattered  trees  to  the  south,  his  ears  painfully 
alive  to  the  dull  roar  of  artillery  and  the  sharp  crackle 
of  musketry,  he  thought  of  Jean,  and  contrasted  the 
present  with  the  past.  He  was  still  very  tired,  his 
spirits  were  depressed,  and  a  conversation  he  had  over- 
heard a  few  minutes  before  between  his  captain  and 
Major  Simpson  had  not  tended  to  reassure  him. 

"  We  shall  not  be  ready  to  begin  until  the  troops 
come  up,"  the  captain  had  said.  "  That  will  not 
be  to-day." 

"Do  you  think  they'll  ever  get  here?  I  don't," 
the  major  snarled  in  reply.  The  worthy  man  was  in 
a  very  bad  temper.  "  If  they  do,  don't  you  be  under 
any  impression  that  they  will  fight.  I  tell  you  the 
first  time  they  see  a  drop  of  blood  they'll  run.  I  am 
sick  of  this  affair.  With  a  division  of  regulars  I 
would  whip  those  seceders  into  h — 1.  But  I  have  no 
use  for  men  like  ours — blasted  civilians  in  uniform, 
which  they  don't  know  how  to  wear! " 

"  The  Eebs  may  be  as  bad,"  the  captain  had  re- 
joined. 

"  Not  possible.  Anyway  they  can't  be  worse,  and 
they  are  on  their  own  ground.     T  bet  they  know  well 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  75 

what  we  are  about.  What  do  we  know  of  their  move- 
ments? " 

Seth  believed  the  major  to  be  right,  and  felt  very 
wretched.  He  had  shared  to  the  full  the  jDopular 
belief  in  the  immediate  and  decisive  success  of  the 
Union  arms.  Now,  reaction  had  come,  and  he  fore- 
saw nothing  but  disaster.  A  presentiment  weighed 
upon  him  that  he  would  lose  control  of  his  nerves, 
and  at  some  critical  moment  run  away.  He  saw  him- 
self before  a  court  martial,  sentenced  to  be  shot  for 
cowardice,  and  Jean  coldly  sajdng  that  it  served  him 
right.  In  the  over-wrought  state  of  his  nerves  all 
these  ideas  appeared  prophetic,  and  his  spirits  fell 
lower  and  lower.  But  now  a  horseman  approached 
at  full  gallop,  and  the  morbid  phantoms  vanished. 

"Who  goes  there?" 

"  Courier  from  General  Tyler." 

The  man  rode  to  the  rear.  He  was  an  orderly 
from  the  front.  It  was  a  call  for  re-enforcements,  and 
presently  the  brigade  battery  (Ayers's)  limbered  up 
and  passed  Seth  at  a  gallop.  Then  Colonel  Sherman 
trotted  by  with  his  staff,  and  Seth  marked  well  this 
hard-faced  man  with  his  bright  eyes,  and  thought  he 
looked  resolute  enough  for  anything.  The  sight  re- 
freshed him.  Another  orderly  rode  up,  saluted  the 
colonel,  and  presented  a  dirty  bit  of  paper.  Orders 
were  given  to  advance  the  whole  brigade. 

Away  with  love-lorn  sentimental  broodings.  In 
less  time  than  Major  Simpson,  for  one,  would  have 
believed  possible,  the  men  were  in  column,  advancing 
at  the  double  quick.  There  was  no  more  sentry  duty 
for  Seth,  no  more  doubts  and  fears.     He  was  shoul- 


76  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT   IN   STEEL. 

der  to  shoulder  with  comrades  now,  marching  to  the 
front.  No  one  knew  what  there  was  ahead.  The 
wonderfully  accurate  information  of  the  enemy's 
movements,  and  of  the  intentions  of  their  own  gen- 
erals, that  the  rank  and  file  of  the  armies  gained 
later  in  the  war,  did  not  exist  as  yet.  Every  one  ex- 
pected a  hattle,  and  each  braced  himself  to  meet  it  in 
his  own  way.  There  was  no  talking  now — mere  vol- 
unteer and  raw  recruits  these  men  might  be,  but  they 
meant  fighting. 

They  marched  three  miles,  the  roar  of  the  guns 
steadily  increasing,  until  they  reached  the  fields  di- 
rectly sloping  to  Bull  Eun  Creek.  The  first  visible 
signs  of  the  battle  now  confronted  them:  a  straggling 
crowd  of  soldiers  were  approaching,  Union  men, 
some  limping  and  bloody,  some  without  arms,  run- 
ning for  their  lives;  others  walking  sullenly  with 
bent  heads,  rifle  at  shoulder,  all  in  full  retreat. 

"  Halt!  " 

The  march  was  over,  and  the  2nd  Wisconsin, 
which  was  the  advance  column,  formed  into  line  of 
battle.  Where  were  the  rebels?  Every  one  expected 
to  see  them  in  pursuit,  and  watched  with  anxious  eyes 
the  thick  belt  of  trees  that  bordered  the  creek  from 
which  the  firing  came.  But  no  men  appeared. 
Nothing  but  puff's  of  smoke,  and  shot  which  tore  up 
the  ground  in  places  to  the  feet  of  the  regiment.  It 
was  sickening  work  for  recruits,  standing  still  to  be 
shot  at;  there  was  no  cover  to  protect  them,  and  no 
order  was  given  to  charge.  The  men  soon  became 
mere  bags  of  nerves,  and  muttered  imprecations  first 
on  the  army  then  on  their  own  commander.     Here 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  77 

they  had  to  remain  for  half  an  honr — the  longest 
thirty  minutes,  most  of  them  felt,  they  had  ever 
passed  in  their  lives.  They  were  then  marched  back 
to  their  old  camp,  discouraged  and  very  cross. 

By  degrees  the  news  spread  that  General  Tyler 
had  made  a  reconnaissance,  attempting  to  carry 
Blackburn's  Ford  over  Bull  Eun,  and  had  been  re- 
pulsed by  the  enemy,  who  were  posted  there  in  con- 
siderable force. 

"  Blasted  fool,  Tyler!  "  was  the  comment  of  Silas 
Horrocks,  Seth's  sergeant,  who  had  been  through  the 
Mexican  War,  to  an  admiring  crowd  of  recruits  round 
the  camp  fire.  "  What  did  he  do  it  for?  We  all 
reckoned  the  seceshers  were  there.  The  only  thing 
we  know  now  that  wasn't  known  before  is  that  those 
boys  have  darned  long  teeth.  That  ain't  worth  any- 
body's life  but  Tyler's  own,  which  has  been  carefully 
preserved.  He  is  like  a  pile  more  of  our  officers. 
The  returns  of  killed  and  wounded  we'll  send  in  by- 
and-by  through  their  mistakes  will  show  that  pres- 
ently— mark  my  words  now,  you  pretty  volunteers!  " 

Two  days  and  nights  were  spent  in  the  camp  at 
Centreville,  both  men  and  officers  chafing  at  the  delay 
— none  more  than  their  commander,  McDowell,  who 
knew  that  every  hour  that  passed  enabled  the  Confed- 
erates to  bring  up  re-enforcements.  But  it  was  in- 
evitable, the  result  of  the  miserable  fiasco  of  a  march 
from  Washington,  and  inexperienced  staff  officers  in- 
nocent of  any  notion  how  to  make  efl^ective  recon- 
naissances of  the  enemy's  position  and  strength. 

At  last,  at  one  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  21st, 
the  sound  of  muffled  drums  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
6 


78  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

camp,  and  Sherman's  brigade  arose  with  the  rest, 
every  man  feeHng  in  his  very  bones  that  the  time  had 
come.  The  air  was  raw  and  cold;  the  men  were  very 
sleepy  and  tired;  they  shivered  and  growled,  and 
wished  the  enemy  and  the  war,  the  Union  cause  and 
all,  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  By  two  o'clock  the  camp 
had  faded  into  the  distance  behind  them,  and  they 
were  again  marching  on  to  the  creek.  No  firing  to 
be  heard  now.  The  brigade  marched  on  unopposed, 
until  it  was  halted  on  the  banks  of  Bull  Eun,  and  de- 
ployed in  line  along  an  edging  of  timber  which  af- 
forded the  men  welcome  cover  in  case  of  an  attack. 
A  pause — a  long,  long  pause.  The  daylight  crept 
into  the  sky,  and  the  sun  rose;  birds  sang  in  the  trees, 
the  animal  life  of  the  neighbourhood  began  to  bestir 
itself  in  the  usual  daily  round  of  occupation,  bewil- 
dered and  curious,  but  not  much  afraid  of  these  lines 
of  blue  and  gray-coated  men.  Still  there  was  no 
firing.  This  was  harder  on  the  nerves  of  the  recruits 
than  the  night  march.  Vague  haunting  fears  beset 
them;  and  the  least  disturbance,  a  chance  shot,  or  cry, 
or  loud  noise,  would  have  driven  them  into  panic. 
Presently  a  movement  was  perceived  across  the  creek. 
Men  were  marching  there  in  column  at  a  smart  pace, 
moving  away  to  the  right  away  from  the  stream. 
It  was  a  body  of  the  enemy  off  to  intercept  the 
brigade  which  had  marched  before  Sherman,  showing 
that  part  of  the  Union  army  had  succeeded  in  cross- 
ing Bull  Run,  and  was  making  steady  progress  toward 
the  heart  of  the  Confederate  position.  The  fears 
now  became  intense  restlessness,  but  the  men  were 
comforted  for  a  little  while  by  watching  their  bat- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  79 

tery  wheel  into  position  to  fire  upon  tlie  enemy's 
column.  The  disappointment  when  it  was  discov- 
ered that  the  guns  would  not  carry  so  far  was  very  bit- 
ter, and  the  language  in  the  brigade  became  outra- 
geous. The  sound  of  brisk  musketry  fire  now  began 
directly  in  front,  quickly  growing  louder,  and  the 
news  flew  down  the  line  that  Hunter's  brigade  was 
driving  the  enemy  before  it  like  chaff.  The  swear- 
ing began  again — this  time  at  Hunter's  brigade.  It 
was  hard  to  stand  still  and  passive  Avhile  others  were 
marching  to  victory,  and  winning  immortal  fame  at 
every  step.  Hunter's  brigade  was  more  unpopular 
than  the  enemy  for  the  moment. 

At  last,  just  at  noon,  came  the  order  the  brigade 
waited  for  so  long.  They  were  to  advance  to  Hun- 
ter's support.  That  enterprising  man  had  gone  too 
fast;  had  been  met,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
with  a  superior  force,  and  was  in  distress.  A  ford 
was  found  by  the  quick  eye  of  Sherman;  over  went 
a  company  in  skirmishing  order,  then  the  New  York 
69th,  then  the  3nd  Wisconsin.  No  hitch  occurred, 
and  order  was  given  to  advance  slowly  and  firmly. 
There  was  no  fear  in  the  mind  of  any  man  now  that 
the  fighting  would  be  over  before  they  could  reach  it. 
The  rattling  fire  in  front  had  become  one  continuous 
roar,  very  trying  to  unaccustomed  ears,  growing  loud- 
er as  more  men  came  into  action  on  both  sides.  Com- 
pany A  marched  at  the  head  of  the  regiment,  its 
spirits  rising  at  every  step.  All  hearts  beat  high  with 
courage  and  excitement;  old  fatigues,  disappoint- 
ments, and  fears  were  forgotten;  they  panted  to  be 
in  the  thick  of  the  fight.     They  clambered  up  the 


80  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

steep  banks,  and  marched  at  a  swinging  pace  over 
fields  already  strewn  with  dead  men  and  wounded 
horses.  This  was  a  gruesome,  sickening  sight  for  re- 
cruits, but  they  had  braced  their  nerves  to  meet  it, 
and  though  their  faces  blanched  at  this  first  glimpse 
of  war,  and  the  smell  of  blood  made  many  sick  and 
faint,  they  set  their  teeth  against  the  weakness, 
grasped  their  guns  the  tighter,  and  hurried  grimly  on. 

"  Form  into  line  of  battle!  " 

"  Thank  God,"  the  men  whispered  under  their 
breath,  then  cheered  to  the  echo  when  they  found 
that  the  2nd  "Wisconsin  was  to  lead.  No  one  knew 
how  the  battle  stood.  The  ground  had  been  rising 
for  some  time,  and  they  were  forming  on  a  hill.  In 
front  of  them  was  the  dip  of  a  valley,  and  then  an- 
other hill,  dark  with  masses  of  men.  The  desperate 
fighting  was  there;  they  could  tell  so  much;  and  no 
victory  for  either  side  was  to  be  recorded  yet.  It 
was  said  that  the  place  they  now  occupied,  "  Math- 
ew's  Hill,"  had  been  in  the  possession  of  the  enemy, 
and  that  the  work  before  the  Union  army  was  to 
storm  and  take  "  Henry  Hill,"  the  ridge  opposite, 
where  stood  the  main  body  of  the  Confederates  at  bay. 
Henry  Hill  carried — the  day  was  won.  It  was  the 
key  of  the  position.  For  hours  before  this  time  the 
fighting  there — dashing  assault  and  stubborn  defence 
had  been  growing  fiercer  as  both  sides  brought  up  re- 
enforcements  from  the  rear;  but  there  was  no  victory 
for  either  army  yet.  It  was  now  the  turn  of  Sher- 
man's brigade. 

"  Second  Wisconsin,  advance!  " 

Down  Mathew's  Hill  they  went,  met  by  a  fierce 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  81 

artillery  fire,  and  men  fell  right  and  left.  The  hearts 
of  the  West  Point  officers  trembled  with  suspense — 
would  the  boys  falter  at  their  first  baptism  of  death? 
Not  they.  Ill-disciplined  as  they  were,  all  unused  to 
pain  and  carnage,  and  their  nerves  severely  tried 
with  the  long  anxious  waiting,  their  blood  was  up. 
On  they  went,  steadily,  Company  A  in  the  van.  At 
Seth's  right  rode  Major  Simpson.  As  he  saw  the 
steady  swing  of  the  step  of  his  men,  and  how  coolly 
the  gaps  in  the  ranks  were  closed,  his  stern  face  be- 
came almost  paternal  in  its  approval. 

"  Steady,  you  boys;  steady  we  go.  Don't  lose 
your  breath  by  rushing  too  soon.  Hold  to  it  quietly 
until  we  are  within  fifty  yards,  then  drive  those  rebs 
to  h— 1!  " 

They  held  to  it,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  at 
Young's  Ford,  struck  a  road  deeply  cut  in  the  clay, 
in  which  for  a  space  they  were  sheltered  from  the 
cruel  shot.  But  it  was  only  for  a  little  while.  Again 
the  ground  began  to  rise.  They  were  at  the  foot  of 
Henry  Hill.     The  road  ceased. 

"Left  wheel!" 

Now  their  time  had  come.  Around  them  the 
men  of  the  regiment  which  had  gone  before  lay  dead 
in  lines  and  heaps,  and  over  the  ground  they  had  to 
pass  to  reach  the  foe;  his  guns  were  hurling  sheets  of 
deadly  hail,  to  which  all  they  had  faced  so  far  had 
been  mere  child's  play.  A  shout,  the  flash  of  the 
officers'  swords  in  the  sun,  a  ringing  cheer,  and  they 
charged.  Seth,  white  with  excitement  and  nearly 
breathless,  found  himself  blindly  following  the  gray 
horse  on  which  the  major  sat.     While  that  horse  held 


82  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

its  course,  Seth  would  go  on  to  the  bottomless  pit  if 
need  be.  Whether  men  were  beside  him  or  not,  he 
did  not  know.  He  forgot  all  about  the  company, 
the  regiment,  everything  except  the  enemy's  line  away 
in  front  and  the  gray  horse  close  at  his  side.  All  at 
once  the  animal  reared,  threw  itself  backward,  and 
fell  dead.  Seth  stopped,  dropped  his  musket,  and 
tried  to  extricate  the  dying  man.  The  major  cursed 
him  for  his  pains. 

"  Get  out,"  he  yelled.  "  You  damned  coward,  let 
me  be!  "  Then  collecting  every  remnant  of  strength 
left  in  him,  he  raised  his  voice  to  its  highest  pitch. 
"  Forward,  boys;  charge  noiv,  and  the  day  is  ours!  " 

Nerved  by  the  cry,  Seth  caught  up  his  musket, 
and  was  about  to  spring  onward,  when  he  was  nearly 
knocked  down  by  two  men  who  were  in  retreat.  He 
staggered,  and  dropped  the  rifle  again,  picked  it  up, 
and  looked  at  the  major.  He  was  already  dead,  his 
face  stiff,  the  eyes  glazed  and  dull.  A  shudder  passed 
through  Seth,  a  cold  dread  paralyzed  his  nerves,  and 
he  followed  the  men  down  the  hill.  It  was  only  for 
a  short  distance,  however.  Other  officers  were  here, 
cursing,  commanding,  beseeching  their  men  to  stay. 
Half  a  dozen  near  Seth  rallied,  all  of  Company  A, 
and  Seth  stepped  in  beside  them.  Their  own  captain 
was  there  to  lead,  and  as  they  faced  round  and 
marched  back,  others  joined  them  with  a  cheer. 
Then  the  havoc  of  the  guns  began  again.  The  men 
on  either  side  of  Seth  were  struck  down.  No  one 
filled  the  gaps,  for  there  was  no  sense  of  discipline 
now  to  hold  the  men  together.  One  by  one  they  fal- 
tered, and  at  last  Seth,  seeing  a  man  in  front  struck 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  83 

in  the  body  and  roll  on  the  ground  shrieking  in  mor- 
tal agony,  could  endure  it  no  more;  again  the  dread 
seized  him,  and  he  turned  with  a  cry  and  ran. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  in  the  sheltered  road, 
the  officers  managed  to  reform  the  broken  ranks — • 
but  it  was  to  retreat.  The  attack  on  Henry  Hill  had 
failed.  The  gallant  defence  of  the  Confederates — 
more  especially  Jackson's  brigade,  animated  by  their 
commander,  to  be  known  as  ''  Stonewall "  from  that 
day — and  the  timely  arrival  of  re-enforcements  turned 
the  scale  in  their  favour.  The  Union  army  began  to 
waver  and  break.  Back  with  the  rest  went  Sher- 
man's brigade;  sullenly,  slowly,  unwillingly.  Back 
to  the  ford;  across  the  creek;  to  Centreville  once 
more;  there  to  pause  and  eat  and  sleep.  Their  com- 
mander was  prepared  to  renew  the  struggle  on  the 
morrow;  but  the  men  had  no  thought  of  fighting. 
Seth,  with  burning  brain  and  shivering  limbs,  his 
left  arm  throbbing  with  pain  from  a  bullet  wound, 
sat  before  the  camp  fire,  tortured  by  every  ghastly 
scene  of  the  day,  living  the  futile  charge  of  Henry 
Hill  over  again,  hearing  the  shriek  of  the  dying  man 
and  Major  Simpson's  curse;  sick,  miserable,  and 
worn  out  in  soul  and  body  and  mind. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

The  retreat  of  the  Union  army  after  the  first  bat- 
tle of  Bull  Run  has  been  described  by  many  pens, 
from  many  points  of  view.  It  was  a  ghastly,  and 
nigh  inevitable  complement  to  the  march  from  Wash- 
ington. The  men  who  had  sat  down  by  the  way- 
side and  gathered  blackberries,  when  their  fond  ones 
at  home  pictured  them  pressing  on  with  stern  faces 
and  high  hearts  to  the  destruction  of  the  rebels,  were 
not  of  the  stuff — yet — to  take  defeat  and  the  slaugh- 
ter of  their  bravest  calmly  or  even  reasonably.  A 
battle  with  raw  troops,  however  good  the  material 
may  be,  is  a  matter  of  extremes.  At  first  they  fight 
bravely,  and  when  well  led  will  face  even  big  guns  for 
a  time;  but  when  they  turn,  when  once  their  hearts 
fail  them,  they  are  lost.  At  Bull  Run,  when  the 
bloody  struggle  for  Henry  Hill  was  over,  though  a 
few  regiments  here  and  there,  like  Sherman's  brigade, 
bore  themselves  like  soldiers,  and  retreated  slowly  and 
in  order,  the  rest  left  the  field  piecemeal — the  men 
melting  away  in  streams,  pressing  faster  and  faster 
upon  one  another's  heels  until  the  retreat  became 
the  terrified  rush  of  a  herd  of  animals.  By  midnight, 
the  whole  army,  instead  of  taking  up  its  old  position 
at  Centreville,  which  it  might  safely  have  done,  was 
84 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  85 

rolling  back  to  Washington,  one  inextricable  mass  of 
confused,  demoralized  men.  Infantry,  cavalry,  artil- 
lery, were  mixed  up  together,  struggling  and  swear- 
ing, perspiring  with  terror  at  fears  their  own  im- 
agination conjured  up,  crying  out  that  the  enemy  was 
pressing  hard  upon  their  rear  and  would  cut  off  their 
retreat,  while  in  reality  only  a  comparatively  small 
number  of  Confederate  soldiers  were  in  pursuit.  All 
those  weary  miles  the  men  never  paused  in  their  re- 
treat, reaching  Washington  early  next  morning. 
Walt  Whitman  has  described  their  entry  there: 

"  The  men  appear — in  disorderly  mobs — some  in 
squads;  stragglers,  companies,  three-quarter  queer 
looking  objects;  strange  eyes  and  faces,  drenched  and 
fearfully  worn;  hungry,  haggard,  blistered  in  the 
feet.  In  the  midst  of  the  deep  excitement  many, 
very  many  of  the  soldiers  are  sleeping.  They  drop 
down  anywhere,  on  the  steps  of  houses,  up  close  by 
the  basement  and  fences;  in  the  side  walk;  aside 
in  some  vacant  lot,  and  deeply  sleep.  Some  sleep  in 
squads,  some  singly;  and  over  them  as  they  lie,  sul- 
lenly drips  the  rain." 

One  of  these  sleepers  was  Seth.  When  the  army 
swept  past  Centreville  Sherman's  brigade  were  obliged 
to  follow,  and  meeting  others  in  the  darkness  at  a 
cross-road,  fell  into  some  confusion,  many  of  the  men 
falling  out  of  the  ranks  and  losing  themselves.  Seth 
had  done  this.  His  wound  had  made  him  feverish 
and  light-headed,  and  he  had  marched  with  the  rest, 
hardly  knowing  what  he  was  about.  At  the  confu- 
sion of  the  cross-roads,  the  panic  of  other  brigades 
had  infected  him,  and  he  hurried  blindly  on,  some- 


86  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

times  on  the  road,  in  the  ditch,  or  in  the  open  field, 
always  with  others,  but  with  no  one  that  he  knew. 
When  day  came  at  last,  when  "  the  sun  rose  but  shone 
not,"  he  was  tramping  over  Long  Bridge  cheek  by  jowl 
with  men  of  half  a  dozen  different  regiments.  Weari- 
ness ojjpressed  him  now,  his  limbs  trembled,  his  head 
was  heavy  and  his  eyes  half  closed,  yet  the  ghastly 
dread  of  an  enemy  in  pursuit  drawing  nearer  every 
moment,  still  overpowered  everything  else,  and  he 
staggered  on  until  he  came  to  the  subvirbs  of  Wash- 
ington. 

"  They  will  defend  the  capital,"  he  muttered;  "  I 
guess  we're  safe  now — but  I  must  find  the  boys  or 
they'll  call  me  a  deserter."  He  was  firmly  persuaded 
that  his  regiment  was  in  front,  and  with  feet  swollen 
and  bleeding,  his  legs  racked  with  shooting  pains,  he 
stumbled  doggedly  on.  At  last  nature  would  endure 
no  more,  and  at  the  edge  of  the  side  walk  of  the  first 
street  he  came  to  he  sat  down  to  rest  a  minute,  pres- 
ently sinking  on  his  face  and  "falling  sound  asleep. 

When  he  awoke  he  found  himself  in  bed,  and  for 
a  moment  thought  he  was  in  his  old  rooms  at  Chip- 
pewa. Then  he  saw  that  the  place  was  filled  with 
many  beds  and  as  his  head  grew  clearer  that  he  was 
in  hospital.  He  lay  still  for  a  long  time  wondering. 
■  His  left  arm  was  bandaged  tightly — he  could  not 
move  it,  and  when  he  lifted  his  right  hand  he  found 
it  absurdly  weak.  Afterward  he  ascertained  that  a 
bullet  had  been  extracted  from  the  arm  and  that  he 
had  lain  for  days  in  high  fever  and  delirious.  All 
he  realized  himself  was  the  pain  in  his  arm  and  a 
bitter  thirst.     Seth  would  have  given  anything  for 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  87 

something  to  drink.  He  looked  about  for  some  one 
to  bring  him  water;  but  except  for  other  men,  in  bed, 
wounded  like  himself,  he  could  see  no  one.  He  was 
presently  roused  from  consideration  of  his  own  wants 
by  a  conversation  that  was  taking  place  over  his  bed. 
It  was  begun  by  a  man  on  his  left,  who  was  reading  a 
newspaper,  and  had  addressed  a  question  to  a  youth 
with  bandaged  neck  and  shoulder. 

"  When  is  your  time  out,  friend?  " 

"  These  four  days.     I  am  a  three  months'  man." 

"  So  am  I,  thank  the  Lord!  " 

"  I  shall  re-enlist,  though." 

"You  will  not!" 

The  speaker,  who  was  fat  and  middle  aged,  with  a 
coarse,  shrewd  face,  spoke  in  a  tone  of  most  emphatic 
disgust.  The  other  looked  surprised,  while  Seth, 
who  in  common  with  most  of  the  first  volunteers  had 
also  joined  for  three  months  only,  began  to  listen 
wdth  interest. 

"  Don't  you  think  there'll  be  work  for  us  ?  "  the 
lad  said.  "  We  must  whip  those  seceshers  now  we've 
made  a  start." 

"Whip  'cm!"  the  fat  man  cried,  with  a  fine 
scorn.  "  Of  course  we'll  whip  'em;  and  that  with- 
out a  battle,  or  only  half  a  one.  But  this  don't  con- 
cern any  of  us  who  was  wounded  at  Bull  Eun,  unless 
we  had  been  fools  enough  to  volunteer  over  ninety 
dsLjs.  Now,  sir-ree,  listen  to  this."  He  rustled  his 
newspaper  with  a  professional  air  to  attract  attention.- 
At  home  he  had  been  a  political  agitator.  He  had 
become  a  volunteer  for  what  he  could  get  out  of  it, 
and  having  extracted  nothing  but  a  broken  leg,  was 


88  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

now  burning  to  revenge  himself  on  the  Government. 
"  There  is  but  one  sensible  and  proper  course  for  self- 
respecting  citizens,  who  went  forth  in  their  country's 
cause  in  April  or  May  last,  to  pursue,  and  that  is  to 
get  back  home  and  stay  there.  It  is  reasonable;  it  is 
right;  it  is  patriotic.  You  think  not?  Then" — 
raising  his  voice  so  that  it  could  be  heard  all  over  the 
room — "  I  will  proceed  to  demonstrate  my  case. 
What,  friend,  caused  our  defeat  at  Bull  Run?  I  will 
tell  you.  Your  officers.  The  West  Pointers  and  their 
friends,  puffed  up  to  the  eyes  with  all  the  pride  an' 
ignorance  of  creation.  I  reckon,  my  gallant  wound- 
ed heroes,  that  I  can  prove  this  to  be  an  undeniable 
fact.  Who,  but  for  these  bunglers  and  snobs,  would 
have  beaten  the  enemy  to  threads?  The  men!  You! 
Ay,  and  all  your  dead  brothers,  lyin'  now  on  the 
bloody  swards  of  Henry  Hill.  What  is  to  be  done 
about  it?  Listen  to  me.  First  take  these  captains, 
an'  colonels,  and  brigadier  generals — take  them  from 
the  high  places  they  abuse,  and  put  in  there  men  of 
the  people,  'lected  by  the  people,  Xext  let  you  and 
me  and  those  who  have  suffered  behave  with  proper 
dignity,  and  refuse  to  take  a  further  share  of  this 
shooting  business  until  the  boys  who  stayed  at  home 
and  who,  you  will  see  by  the  papers,  are  cursin'  us  to- 
day, have  done  their  share.  Let  us  tell  them  to  go 
to  the  front,  and  see  how  they  like  it.  We  will  take 
the  work  they  leave  behind  'em,  and  rest  awhile. 
There  is  another  way  of  looking  at  it.  Do  you  " — 
glaring  at  the  man  he  spoke  to  first  of  all — "  want  to 
keep  all  the  glory  to  yourself?  Ain't  your  wounds 
an  honour  that  will  keep  you  goin'  a  spell?     Ain't 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  89 

you  got  folk  who  need  you?  I  have.  Don't  charity 
begin  at  home?  I  tell  you,  friends  all/'  with  a  con- 
cluding flourish — the  doctor  had  come  in  to  begin 
his  rounds,  and  it  was  time  to  stop — ''  that  the  course 
I  recommend  to  you  is  one  of  Christian  duty.  I  will 
be  pleased  to  argify  quietly  with  any  one  of  you  who 
don't  see  it  so.  I  will  guarantee  to  convince  him 
even  that  he  is  wrong  and  I  am  right.  Let  folk  like 
newspaper  editors,  and  other  trash  that  have  never 
left  their  homes,  blow  the  loud  trumpets.  For  you 
and  me,  sense  and  duty  to  those  we  love  the  best  re- 
quire that  we  should  do  what  I  have  said." 

The  eloquence  of  the  man — Galibrag  by  name — 
was  not  without  effect.  Hospital  life  all  the  world 
over  is  dull  and  monotonous;  a  new  interest,  espe- 
cially of  a  personal  kind,  is  welcome,  be  what  it  may. 
Nearly  all  were  "  three  months' "  men,  and  though 
many  did  not  agree  with  Mr.  Galibrag  at  first,  they 
found  him  a  difficult  person  to  argue  with,  as  all  men 
are  who  can  shift  their  ground  according  to  the  point 
of  view  of  their  opponent  and  know  how  to  touch  him 
in  his  weakest  place,  like  a  skilful  boxer  in  the  ring. 
He  was  more  dangerous  in  conversation  than  on 
the  stump,  and,  as  fate  would  have  it,  his  bed  was  next 
to  Seth's.  Mr.  Galibrag  took  a  fancy  to  Seth,  or 
said  he  did,  and  when  Seth,  after  he  had  gained 
strength,  took  up  the  cudgels  on  the  other  side,  Mr. 
Galibrag  met  him  in  the  most  cordial  spirit. 

"  Mind  you,  now,  friend,"  he  said  loftily,  "  I 
would  not  influence  a  man  against  his  inclination — 
no,  not  for  the  world.  If  you  feel  that  the  Govern- 
ment and  your  officers  acted  right  toward  you;  if 


90  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

drilling,  and  hard  food  and  catching  chills,  and  bein' 
marched  round  like  a  dancin'  bear  to  the  tune  of  the 
sergeant's  tongue,  suits  your  constitution,  I  would 
say  nothing.  It  is  a  matter  of  taste  and  of  men. 
But  I  reckon  a  man  of  education — more  'specially  a 
man  who  can  educate  others — a  rare  gift,  sir,  a  most 
rare  gift — must  have  peculiar  ideas  of  usefulness  if, 
rather  than  be  independent  and  serve  his  country  in 
a  dignified  way  as  a  free  citizen,  he  prefers  to  be 
what  some  call  a  soldier  and  I  call  a  slave.  But  how 
•  does  it  come  to  you  ?  Let  us  discuss  your  own  par- 
ticular case." 

This  Seth  declined  to  do  brusquely,  apologized 
for  his  rudeness,  and  finally  was  led  to  talk  a  great 
deal  about  himself.  The  prejudice  he  first  conceived 
against  Mr,  Galibrag  moderated,  as  he  became  used 
to  the  man's  manner,  and  as  Mr.  Galibrag  became 
better  acquainted  with  him.  Seth  was  sick  in  mind 
as  well  as  body.  His  nerves  had  never  recovered 
tone,  though  he  was  considered  convalescent.  Any 
unexpected  noise  would  make  him  start  violently, 
and  he  felt  a  childish  dread  of  discomfort  and  bodily 
pain.  Most  of  all,  he  suffered  from  home  sickness, 
and  ached  for  a  sight  of  Jean.  They  had  exchanged 
letters  since  Bull  Eun,  hers  full  of  affectionate  solici- 
tude and  warm  praise  of  his  gallantry,  for  some  one, 
it  appeared,  now  at  Chippewa,  had  seen  him  charge 
up  Henry  Hill.  He  longed  to  be  with  her.  He  had 
won  his  spurs.  At  least  he  might  rest  awhile  and 
enjoy  his  reward.  Mr.  Galibrag's  arguments  dis- 
posed him  to  go  even  further,  and  he  began  to  con- 
jure up  a  vision  of  re-organization  of  the  school,  mar- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  91 

riage,  and,  what  he  had  craved  for  all  his  life,  a  home 
of  his  own.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Galibrag's  own 
personality  was  objectionable,  and  when  he  departed, 
the  atmosphere  of  the  hospital  seemed  purer  and 
cleaner.  A  few  days  later  Seth  took  his  discharge, 
and  began  the  long  journey  to  Chippewa.  He  left 
against  the  advice  of  the  doctor,  who  warned  him  that 
over-exertion  might  cause  inflammation  of  the  wound- 
ed arm  not  yet  healed.  But  Seth  could  not  stand  the 
confinement  and  depressing  surroundings  any  longer. 
He  believed  that  active  change  of  scene  and  thought 
was  all  he  needed,  and  took  the  risk  without  hesita- 
tion. When  he  reached  the  railway  depot,  he  felt  so 
exhausted  and  miserable  he  would  have  turned  back; 
but  pride  forbade  it.  So  he  took  his  ticket,  and  as 
the  train  carried  him  northward  he  smiled  a  con- 
tented smile,  and  jolted  on  uncomplainingly  in  the 
dusty  car,  his  faded  uniform  hanging  in  clumsy  folds 
over  his  lean  limbs,  his  arm  still  in  a  sling,  and  a 
beard  of  five  weeks'  growth  adding  to  the  cadaverous- 
ness  of  his  hollow  cheeks.  It  was  a  terrible  journey. 
The  weather  was  hot  and  close;  the  cars  were  ill- 
ventilated,  with  hard  bare  wood  seats,  and  populated 
by  peculiarly  vicious  and  bloodthirsty  mosquitoes. 
Sleep  at  night  was  out  of  the  question,  there  was 
no  rest  by  day,  and  the  food  Seth  allowed  himself 
out  of  his  very  slender  resources  was  coarse  and  badly 
cooked.  It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  therefore, 
if  his  mind  dwelt  upon  what  he  should  have  left  alone 
— his  sufferings  at  Bull  Eun;  if  fresh  fever  in  his 
blood  began  to  germinate.  The  last  night  he  was 
so  much  exhausted  that  he  dozed  fitfully  in  spite  of 


92  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

his  aching  limbs,  but  it  was  to  dream  of  the  horrors 
over  again,  Seth  was  thankful  when  daylight  came; 
and  to  employ  the  few  hours  that  remained  before  he 
reached  Marathon  Junction,  where  he  had  to  change 
for  Chippewa,  he  took  pencil  and  paper  and  scrib- 
bled a  letter  to  Jean.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
definitely  not  to  return  to  the  war,  and  he  felt 
that  he  could  put  his  reasons  better  on  paper  than 
he  could  give  them  in  speech.  He  would,  he  thought, 
break  the  ice  when  they  were  together,  and  then 
leave  her  the  letter  to  read.  The  writing  down  of  his 
thoughts  and  feelings  did  him  good.  He  got  a  morn- 
ing nap,  and  woke,  somewhat  refreshed,  just  before 
the  train  rolled  into  Marathon,  But  here  the  great- 
est trial  of  all  awaited  him.  The  train  was  two  hours 
behind  time,  the  Chippewa  train  for  the  day  had 
gone,  and  he  must  remain  at  Marathon  four-and- 
twenty  hours.  It  was  a  climax  to  all  he  had  en- 
dured, A  whole  day  and  night  to  pass  before  he 
could  see  Jean!  He  cursed,until  he  was  weak.  What 
was  to  be  done?  He  could  not  afford  to  stay  at  the 
hotel.  The  total  amount  of  his  resources  when  he 
left  Washington,  except  for  one  hundred  dollars  in 
the  bank  at  Chippewa,  had  been  thirty-nine  dollars 
for  three  months'  service  in  the  army.  Of  this  sum 
he  had  five  dollars  left;  and  there  was  still  the  rail- 
way fare  from  Marathon  to  pay.  The  result  of  this 
discovery  was  a  resolve  to  get  two  meals  at  the  hotel, 
one  this  afternoon,  and  one  to-morrow,  and  spend  the 
night  at  the  depot,  on  a  bench.  The  hotel  was  some 
way  from  the  railroad,  at  the  top  of  a  long  hill,  and 
by  the  time  Seth  reached  it,  he  was  feeling  very  ill. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  93 

He  stumbled  into  the  dining-room,  ordered  two 
dough-nuts  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  then,  utterly 
worn  out,  closed  his  eyes  and  began  to  wonder  with 
considerable  disgust  whether  he  was  going  to  faint. 
Some  one  came  up  and  stood  over  him.  Seth  opened 
his  eyes  languidly,  thinking  it  was  the  waiter.  It 
was  John  Burletson. 

"  Why,  John,  old  friend!  "  and  they  shook  hands 
warmly. 

"  I  thought  it  could  be  no  one  else,"  John  said. 
"  But,  Seth,  you  are  sick.     I  hardly  knew  you." 

"  I  am  whittled  down  a  little,"  Seth  replied,  in  a 
voice  he  strove  to  make  cool  and  indifferent.  "  The 
weather  is  infernal,  and  this  thing,"  touching  his 
w^ounded  arm,  "  is  inclined  to  play  it  rather  low- 
down  on  me.     It  ought  to  be  well  by  now." 

John  sat  down  and  looked  at  him. 

"You  are  bound  for  Chippewa?" 

"  I  thought  so,  but  these  beastly  cars  went  back 
on  me.  I  will  arrive  there  to-morrow — all  that  the 
mosquitoes  at  the  depot  choose  to  leave.  What  a 
cursed  noise  folk  make  in  these  places!  The  voices 
of  those  girls  go  through  me.     How  much,  waiter?" 

A  negro  placed  his  repast  before  him,  which  John 
looked  at  disapprovingly. 

"  Twenty-five  cents,  sar — cap'n,  I  mean." 

"  I  will  give  you  ten,"  Seth  cried  irritably; 
"  twenty-five  be  hanged !  " 

"  Dough-nuts,  ten,  sar;  coffee,  fifteen.  Ask  de 
boss,  please." 

"  Take  away  the  coffee,  then,"  Seth  said  grimly, 
"  and  bring  me  a  glass  of  water." 

r 


94  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

The  waiter  obeyed,  with  a  contemptuous  shrug. 
John  left  his  chair. 

"  Excuse  me,  friend,  one  minute,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  forgotten  something." 

When  he  returned  he  found  Seth  at  the  win- 
dow. 

"  Let  us  go  out  of  this,  John.  Do  you  mind?  I 
feel  stifled  here.  It  has  come  to  me  while  you  were 
absent  that  I  would  like  to  tell  you  sometliing.  Have 
you  time  to  spare?" 

Seth  spoke  in  an  excited,  feverish  tone,  and  John 
noticed  that  his  face  was  flushed  and  twitching  all 
over. 

"  I  would  like  nothing  better.  But  I  know  a 
place  better  than  the  street." 

"  Are  you  staying  here?  " 

"  I  have  a  private  room  engaged." 

He  led  Seth  into  the  hall  and  up  a  flight  of  stairs, 
and  took  him  into  a  comfortably  furnished  apartment 
with  a  carpet,  rocking-chair,  and  a  bed  with  mos- 
quito curtains. 

"  Comfort — by  George! "  Seth  sighed,  sinking 
into  the  chair,  while  John  shut  the  door  and  placed 
himself  astride  of  a  stool.  "  I  have  not  seen  such  a 
place  as  this  since — since  I  saw  you  last." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  out  of  hospital  ?  " 

"  Three  days — I  have  come  straight  from  there." 

"  Were  you  stout  enough  for  the  journey?  " 

"I  guess  so.  Anyway,  I  had  been  there  long 
enough.     Why?" 

"  You  are  so — thin." 

"  That  is  nothing  at  all.     Now,  tell  me,  how  are 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  95 

the  folk?     I  seem  to  have  been  awa}^  years.     Has  any 
one  got  the  school  ?  " 

''  They  have  a  man  for  the  time." 

"Not  permanently?  Good  business.  See — I  am 
going  to  tell  you  what  is  in  my  mind.  I  don't  intend • 
going  back  to  the  war.  I  am  near  played  out.  Any- 
way, I  feel  I  have  done  enough  for  the  country.  I 
am  going  to  play  for  myself.  You  were  a  wise  man, 
old  John;  by  thunder,  you  were  indeed.  War  is 
pretty  to  read  about;  but,  the  reality  is  a  devilish 
business — simply  devilish.  You  find  me  changed! 
But  for  my  uniform,  I  bet  you  would  not  have  known 
me.  Why,  my  idea  is  to  get  back  to  the  school,  work 
like  ten  men,  and  get  married.  I  don't  know  what 
Jean  will  say  about  it.  I  have  written  to  her  in  case 
of  accidents,  for  I  have  felt,  to  tell  the  truth,  so 
wretchedly  mean  and  poorly,  that  I  got  an  idea 
into  my  head  I  might  not  get  as  far  as  Chippewa 
for  a  while.  But  stop.  What  is  in  your  mind? 
Something  ugly,  I  can  see.  Do  you  think  I  am 
in  the  wrong  track  to  talk  of  staying  at  home?  I 
am  not.  But  tell  me,  what  do  you  think?  Tell  me 
straight." 

John  bent  his  head. 

"  I  was  thinking " 

"Well?" 

"  You  would  be  the  only  one — to  stay  behind." 

"  There  are  thousands  leaving,   now   that   their 
time  is  up." 

"  Not  around  Chippewa." 

"Then  you  think  me  a  coward?" 

"  I  did  not  say  that." 


96  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  It  is  in  your  mind." 

"  Not  at  all.     But  let  us  drop  this." 

"  I  came  to  talk  about  just  that  thing.  But  I  feel 
I  am  trespassing  here — come  outside." 

He  sprang  up  in  a  temper,  then  staggered,  and 
would  have  fallen  had  not  John  caught  his  arm. 

"  Seth,  lie  down  at  once." 

He  pulled  him  gently  but  firmly  to  the  bed.  Seth 
yielded  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  guess  I  am  limp — for  the  moment.  Excuse 
me,  I  will  be  right  in  a  minute." 

John  covered  his  feet  with  a  rug. 

"  I  wonder  how  long  it  takes  a  doctor  to  get  round 
in  these  parts,"  he  said,  looking  at  his  watch.  Seth 
sat  up. 

"  Pshaw,  man — did  you  send  for  one?  " 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  man  of 
seedy  appearance  came  in  and  introduced  himself  as 
the  "  doctor  of  Marathon  city."  He  apologized  for 
not  arriving  before,  omitting  to  state  that  the  cause 
for  his  delay  was  the  charms  of  a  brandy-and-soda  he 
had  been  discussing  in  the  landlord's  private  room. 
He  was  sober  enough,  however,  to  see  what  was  the 
matter  witK  Seth. 

"  You  will  lay  where  you  are,  young  man,"  he 
said  solemnly — "  Jest  exactly  where  you  are — until  I 
tell  you  to  git.  How  long?  Mebbe  a  week — mebbe 
two.     All  depends." 

"Nonsense!"  Seth  answered.  "I  am  going  on 
to  Chippewa  to-morrow." 

"  Then  you  will  die,  sir;  I  sw'ar  you  will.  You 
are  on  the  way  to  having  a  very  bad  fever." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  97 

""Blast  the  fever!"  Seth  said  with  shut  teeth. 
"  I  must  see  my  folk — and  to-morrow." 

"  Have  'em  here,"  said  the  doctor,  beginning  to 
wake  up  to  the  importance  of  securing  a  patient. 

"  They  could  not  come." 

"  They  will  if  they  value  your  life.  Can't  your 
brother,  here,"  turning  to  John,  "  tell  'em  about  it, 
and  tote  'em  round?" 

It  was  now  John's  turn  to  be  taken  aback,  the 
more  so  as  Seth  caught  up  the  notion  eagerly.  His 
mind  just  now  had  only  room  for  one  thought. 

"  Why,  that  is  a  good  idea,"  he  cried.  "  You  will 
do  it,  I  know,  John,  and  take  my  letter  with  you.  It 
is  a  mean  thing  for  me  to  trouble  you,  but  I  reckon  I 
do  feel  pretty  sick  after  all.  I  would  be  very  grate- 
ful." 

John  sighed  and  yielded.  The  lad  was  very  ill. 
This  doctor  was  a  beast,  yet  right,  John  thought,  in 
his  opinion.  Care  and  nursing  by  experienced  hands 
was  absolutely  necessary. 

"  I  will  go,"  he  said  quietly,  and  helped  Seth  to 
undress.  He  then  had  an  interview  with  the  hotel- 
keeper  and  his  wife,  the  result  of  which  was  that 
everything  was  given  to  Seth  which  he  could  need 
for  the  present.  A  telegram  was  despatched  to  Mrs. 
Burletson,  a  light  sulky  chartered,  and  a  swift  horse, 
and  John  set  off  for  Chippewa  as  fast  as  the  animal 
would  go.  In  his  pocket  was  the  letter  for  Jean 
which  Seth  had  written  in  the  cars. 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

John  had  not  spoken  to  Jean  since  Seth  left  for 
the  front.  When  they  had  passed  one  another  in  the 
street  or  met  in  the  store,  she  would  bow  coldly, 
he  simply  raise  his  hat.  People  speculated  much  on 
what  could  have  caused  such  a  breach  between  these 
friends.  Few  believed  that  John's  refusal  to  volun- 
teer could  be  the  sole  reason.  But  everybody  was 
sure  of  one  thing.  There  never  would  be  a  recon- 
ciliation, even  if  Seth  were  killed  in  the  war.  Jean's 
pride  was  proverbial,  and  every  one  knew  the  obsti- 
nacy of  the  Burletson  family.  There  was  a  strong 
feeling  of  sympathy  among  the  older  folk  with  Luke 
Selby.  Through  no  fault  of  his  own,  he  had  lost 
the  most  eligible  son-in-law  in  town.  It  was  hard 
luck.  The  sentimental  side  of  the  affair  did  not  ap- 
peal to  the  citizens  of  Chippewa,  while  the  young 
people  who  had  looked  upon  John  as  certain  to  be 
Jean's  choice,  were  glad  now  to  a  man — and  a  woman 
— that  he  had  lost  her.  "  The  girls  of  this  town," 
one  of  them  proudly  said,  "  are  not  going  to  marry 
'  home  guards,'  no  matter  what  they  thought  be- 
fore." 

John  left  the  horses  a  few  blocks  away  and  en- 
tered the  store  by  the  back  door.  This  was  in  order 
98 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  99 

to  avoid  Luke,  who  had  not  only  apologized  in  set 
terms  for  the  warmth  of  his  language  on  that  fatal 
Sunday,  but  was  becoming  cordial  and  friendly  to  a 
degree  John  found  distinctly  embarrassing.  Mrs. 
Selby  was  the  right  person  to  see.  John  knew  she 
did  not  care  for  Seth,  but  was  sure  the  boy's  illness 
would  touch  her  heart  at  once,  and  she  would  tell 
Jean.  He  went,  therefore,  straight  to  the  kitchen. 
As  luck  would  have  it,  Jean,  and  not  her  mother, 
was  in  the  kitchen  at  this  particular  moment.  The 
entrance  of  such  a  totally  unexpected  person  as  John 
made  Jean  give  a  very  perceptible  start,  and  blush 
violently — things  which  gave  her  particular  annoy- 
ance under  the  circumstances. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  John  said,  hastily  stepping 
back,  and  in  so  doing  treading  hard  upon  the  tail  of 
Jean's  cat,  which  mewed  dismally.  "  I  have  come 
with  a  message  " — he  was  going  to  say  "  from  Seth," 
but  Jean  did  not  allow  him  to  finish. 

"  You  will  find  mother,"  she  said,  "  in  the 
store." 

But  John  stood  his  ground.  He  had  taken  up 
the  aggrieved  cat,  which  recognised  him  and  purred 
with  all  its  might. 

"  I  will  see  your  mother  presently.  But  as  we 
have  met,  Jean,  I  must  tell  you  first.  Seth  asked  me 
to  come." 

"Seth?     Where  is  he?" 

"Robjoint's  Hotel,  Marathon.  Held  there  by 
sickness  on  his  way  home." 

"  He  must  be  very  sick." 

Her    tone    sounded    unsympathetic,    and    John, 


100  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

though  he  suspected  that  this  was  assumed  for  his 
benefit,  felt  indignant  on  Seth's  account. 

"  He  is — or  I  would  not  be  here.  The  doctor  said 
that  if  he  stirred  one  step,  he'd  not  answer  for  his 
life.  Even  then  it  was  all  we  could  do  to  keep  Seth 
down.  I  had  to  quiet  him  by  a  promise  to  bring  a 
letter  and  tell  you  exactly  how  tilings  were.  It  was 
much  against  my  will." 

Jean's  eyes  dropped  before  the  look  he  gave 
her. 

"  You  have  been  put  to  much  trouble,"  she  mur- 
mured, taking  the  note.  "  Seth — Seth  should 
thank  you." 

There  was  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  the  last  words, 
which  John  could  not  understand. 

"Won't  you  sit  down,  John?"  she  continued. 
"  Mother  will  be  so  pleased  to  see  you." 

John  thanked  her,  watching  her  under  his  eye- 
brows with  dreamy  interest.  It  was  unnatural  even 
yet  that  this  was  not  his  Jean.  The  old  wound  be- 
gan to  ache  again,  and  John  gave  himself  a  shake, 
and  tried  to  turn  his  thoughts  to  Seth.  What  would 
the  effect  of  this  letter  be?  Jean's  enthusiasm  for 
the  war,  which  had  been  a  passion  before  Bull  Eun, 
was  her  religion  now.  It  was  less  aggressive.  She 
would  not  now  sing  "  John  Brown's  Body  "  from  a 
public  platform,  but  it  was  infinitely  deeper.  This 
was  a  bad  time  for  the  news  of  Seth's  change  of  ideas. 
She  should  have  seen  him  first.  With  these  thoughts 
passing  through  his  mind,  John's  eyes  became  intent- 
ly fixed  upon  Jean's  face,  until  she  glanced  up  and 
saw  him. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  101 

"Have  you — do  you  know  what  is  in  this  letter, 
may  I  ask?  " 

"  He  told  me  something — not  much." 

"  About  his  giving  up  the  army?  " 

"  Yes." 

Jean  was  very  pale  now,  but  in  her  eyes  there  was 
an  expression  not  pleasant  to  see. 

"  Did  you  talk  with  him  any  ?  You  advised  him, 
perhaps?  " 

Her  voice  was  quiet,  with  a  curious  vibration 
in  it. 

John  was  rather  taken  by  surprise.  He  had  not 
expected  to  be  questioned  about  the  letter,  and  now, 
anxious  not  to  betray  what  Seth  had  said,  which  he 
felt  must  not  come  through  a  third  person,  hesitated 
before  he  answered.  Jean  noticed  this,  and  the 
suspicion  in  her  eyes  deepened. 

"  We  had  a  few  words,"  John  answered;  "  but 
they  were  of  no  importance.  He  was  too  sick  for  me 
to  allow  him  to  talk." 

"No  importance!  Do  you  say  that?  Yet,  after 
all,  maybe  I  am  wrong  " — her  tone  was  now  bitterly 
sarcastic — "  perhaps  we  speak  at  cross-purposes. 
Yoii  may  not  think  it  of  importance  for  an  honest 
man,  who  was  as  brave  as  the  bravest,  to  turn  back, 
when  for  his  country's  sake  he  should  go  forward  as 
he  never  went  before.  Oh,  why  have  you,  of  all  men, 
crossed  his  path  just  now?  Sick?  He  must  be  nigh 
mad  to  listen  to  you,  who  never  went  at  all." 

The  inner  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Selby  came  in. 
Jean  stopped,  and  walked  away  to  finish  her  letter. 
Mrs.  Selby's  honest  face  beamed  like  a  sun. 


102  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  You,  John,  callin'  ?  What  a  pleasure  it  is  to 
see  you!  What  has  brought  ye? — though  never 
think  of  explainin'  to  me.  I  find  it  too  good  to  see 
your  face  here  once  more  to  ask  for  explanations. 
How  is  your  dear  mother?  " 

"  Well— thank  you,  kindly." 

"  Which  you  are  not,"  Mrs.  Selby  said,  frowning. 
"  You  are  looking  death-pale." 

John  smiled  at  her  tone  of  solicitude. 

"  'Tis  nothing  but  the  want  of  a  meal,  ma'am. 
I  have  ridden  from  Marathon,  and  had  not  time  for 
a  bite.     You  are  wanted,  Mrs.  Selby,  badly." 

His  voice  was  very  determined.  Jean  had  roused 
him  effectually.  Not  so  much  by  the  insinuation 
that  he  had  tried  to  influence  Seth,  that  he  thought 
was  natural  after  the  way  she  had  misunderstood  him, 
but  by  her  apparent  inclination  to  question  her  lover's 
motives  when  she  should  have  been  engrossed  by  anx- 
iety for  his  sufferings. 

"  I  came  with  a  message  for  Jean,"  John  went 
on;  "I  must  give  it  to  you.  Seth  is  at  Marathon, 
too  weak  to  move,  and  if  he  does  not  receive  care  and 
good  nursing,  and  get  a  sight  of  the  face  he  loves,  I 
doubt  if  he  ever  will  move  again.  I  thought  perhaps 
you  would  go  with  Jean,  or  send  her  with  some  nurse. 
He  must  see  her,  and  that  at  once — I  promised  it." 

John  said  the  last  words  with  slow  emphasis,  look- 
ing hard  at  Jean,  who  was  now  nervously  folding  up 
her  letter. 

Mrs.  Selby  held  up  her  hands  in  dismay. 

"  Seth  lying  sick  at  Marathon!  Dear,  dear,  how 
misfortunate!     Of  course  I  will  go.     It  is  awkward 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  103 

about  the  chicks,  but  they  must  rub  along  some  way. 
My  sister  is  come  with  her  husband  to  stay  a  week, 
and  she  will  see  to  them  and  things  here.  How  to 
get  there  quick  enough — that  is  the  only  point.  'Tis 
so  far  to  Marathon — twenty  miles  at  least." 

"  There  is  a  train  in  an  hour.  I  must  go  back  by 
it,  and  could  help  you  pack  your  traps  along  if  it  is 
too  soon.  Otherwise,  I  will  fetch  the  team  from  the 
farm  and  drive  you." 

Mrs.  Selby  gave  a  complacent  little  chuckle. 

"  That  is  our  John,  every  time.  Sparing  noth- 
ing when  his  mind  is  made  up.  We  will  catch  that 
train.  Your  horses  shall  not  come  out  for  us.  I 
will  manage.  Now,  tell  me  what  ails  the  boy  while  I 
get  some  lunch.  Nay,"  as  John  protested,  "  but  you 
must  have  some  right  now.  Jean,  mebbe  you  had 
better  go  and  pack  up  your  things." 

Mrs.  Selby,  for  once  in  her  life,  had  taken  com- 
mand of  the  situation.  Jean,  who  had  been  listening 
with  downcast  eyes,  approached  John  and  looked  up 
swiftly  and  then  away  again. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you,"  she  said  in  a  whisper. 
"  But  we  need  not  trouble  you  to  go  again  to  Mara- 
thon." 

John's  face  did  not  change. 

"  There  is  no  trouble  in  it.  I  came  because  I 
reckoned  his  life  depended  upon  it.  I  shall  go  back 
because  I  said  I  would." 

He  turned  to  Mrs.  Selby;  but  paused  to  say  to 
Jean — 

"  I  would  have  you  remember  that  he  wrote  that 
letter  before  I  met  him.     I  do  not  say  this  to  change 


104  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

your  opinion  of  me.  ISTotliing  now  will  do  that.  But 
I  wish  you  should  know  the  truth." 

All  this  puzzled  Mrs.  Selby  desperately,  but  she 
could  ask  no  questions  until  she  made  an  excuse  to 
leave  John  eating  his  lunch,  and  go  to  Jean's  room. 

"  Jennie,  what  has  been  going  on  'tween  John 
and  you?  I  never  saw  him  look  so  stormy.  What 
have  you  said?  " 

"  I  asked  questions — I  said  what  I  had  no  right 
to.  'Twas  unjust  and  mean.  There,  mother,  leave 
me  alone,  please.  I  cannot  talk  of  anything.  I 
wish  we  could  go  this  minute  to  Marathon.  Why, 
Seth  may  be  dying  all  those  miles  away." 

Mrs.  Selby  soothed  her. 

"  He'll  be  far  from  that,  dearie.  Trust  me. 
Men,  even  the  best,  like  John,  is  always  fussed  and 
flustered  where  there  is  illness.  They  lose  their 
heads  like  frightened  hens  unless  they  be  doctors. 
Now,  Seth,  I  take  it,  has  lost  blood  and  nerve  through 
hard  times,  and  so  he's  wilted  considerable,  and  we 
must  go  to  him.  Pack  you  trunk  with  clothes  for  a 
week,  and  tell  your  father  about  it — leave  all  else  to 
me." 

Jean  meekly  obeyed.  For  the  first  time  for  many 
years  she  was  content,  even  glad,  to  take  the  second 
place. 

Mrs.  Selby  kept  her  word,  and  with  Jean,  very 
pale  and  distressed,  arrived  at  the  depot  five  minutes 
before  the  train  was  due.  John  was  waiting  for 
them,  and  finding  them  a  comfortable  seat  in  one 
of  the  ears,  departed  immediately  for  another,  and 
was  not  seen  again  until  Marathon  was  reached.     At 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  105 

the  hotel  Mrs.  Selby  found  that  rooms  had  been  en- 
gaged for  her  by  John,  by  telegraph.  The  only  diffi- 
culty left  for  her  was  to  overcome  the  doctor,  who 
was  awaiting  their  arrival  in  a  very  spirituous  condi- 
tion. Mrs.  Selby,  however,  after  a  brief  examina- 
tion of  Seth,  made  short  work  of  the  medical  man. 
She  listened  in  silence  to  his  advice,  asked  for  his  bill, 
paid  it,  and  showed  him  the  door. 

All  the  time  this  was  going  on  Jean  sat  by  Seth's 
bedside  holding  his  hand  and  trjdng  to  smile,  and 
feeling  so  wretched  and  full  of  self-reproach  that  at 
the  least  provocation  she  would  have  burst  into  tears. 
Seth,  to  her  eyes,  seemed  dying,  and  with  a  bitter 
pang  Jean  felt  that  it  was  she  who  had  sent  him  to  his 
death.  His  cheeks  were  sunken,  his  complexion  dull 
and  unhealthy,  he  was  a  mere  skeleton  of  his  former 
self.  The  only  comfort  Jean  found  was  the  bright- 
ness which  came  into  his  eyes  at  the  sight  of  her  face, 
and  his  look  of  peace  as  he  lay  holding  her  hand, 
basking  in  the  content  her  presence  gave  him.  Seth 
was  perfectly  happy.  He  suffered  little  pain  now, 
and  the  rest  of  body  and  mind  and  heart  that  came 
with  Jean,  with  the  care  and  nourishment  he  had 
already  received,  had  much  revived  him.  He  only 
felt  tired  and  a  little  faint.  ISTeither  of  them  thought 
for  the  moment  of  John,  who,  finding  that  Mrs. 
Selby  was  more  than  equal  to  the  doctor,  and  all 
other  matters  having  been  arranged,  took  his  depar- 
ture without  entering  the  sick-room  again. 

Seth  was  able  to  resume  his  journey  in  a  week. 
When  he  asked  the  hotel-keeper,  with  many  inward 
qualms,  for  his  bill,  that  gentleman  said  that  his 


106  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL, 

charge  was  nothing.  He  was  pleased,  he  said,  to  do 
his  humble  share  in  the  defence  of  his  country  by 
"•  heljDing  one  of  her  gallantest  boys,"  at  the  ex- 
jDi-ession  of  which  beautiful  sentiment  Seth  thanked 
him  warmly,  and  Jean  gave  him  her  sweetest  smile. 
Mrs.  Selby  alone  had  suspicions  concerning  the  good 
man's  exceeding  effusiveness.  She  remembered  that 
when  she  went  to  look  for  him  soon  after  their  arrival, 
she  had  seen  him  in  earnest  conversation  with  John, 
who  walked  hurriedly  away.  With  characteristic  pru- 
dence, however,  Mrs,  Selby  kept  her  ideas  to  herself. 

Seth  received  a  small  ovation  the  day  he  arrived 
at  Chippewa.  A  large  number  of  his  old  scholars 
Avere  at  the  depot,  raising  shrill  cheers  as  the  train 
came  in,  and  fighting  hotly  for  the  privilege  of  carry- 
ing his  trunk  to  the  store;  while  all  the  unoccupied 
members  of  the  community  looked  on  and  vigorously 
applauded.  The  next  day  invitations  poured  in 
from  citizens  who  had  sons  or  brothers  in  the  army, 
and  wished  to  ask  numberless  questions.  This  popu- 
larity was  pleasant  at  first,  but  it  had  a  seamy  side. 
He  could  not  show  his  face  in  the  street  without  some 
one  he  had  never  spoken  to  before  stopping  him  and 
inquiring  anxiously  after  his  health,  and  wanting  to 
know  whether,  from  his  experience,  he  judged  the 
preparations  the  Government  were  making  to  in- 
crease the  army  would  prove  sufficient  for  their  pur- 
pose. The  worst  of  it  was,  everybody  took  it  for 
granted  that  he  was  to  return  to  the  front  as  soon  as 
his  health  was  re-established;  Jean  alone  said  noth- 
ing. Seth  rather  congratulated  himself  upon  her 
silence.     Had  she  nourished  any  serious  intention 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  107 

of  opposing  his  idea,  or  even  had  a  strong  feehng 
against  it,  she  was  the  last  person  to  have  kept  it  to 
herself.  As  time  went  on,  however,  and  his  strength 
hegan  to  return,  Seth  found  the  attitude  of  his  own 
mind  changing.  The  air  was  full  of  war,  not  mere 
talk  and  speculation,  but  stern  reality.  Men  were 
enlisting  now  who  had  never  thought  of  doing  so 
four  months  ago.  Bull  Eun,  while  it  winnowed  out 
mere  sentiment  and  silenced  the  boasters,  brought  to 
the  surface  all  that  was  manly  and  true  in  the  North. 
The  Government,  with  Lincoln  at  its  head,  stood  firm 
as  a  rock,  and  the  most  enthusiastic  Southerner 
paused  and  sobered  down  as  the  news  of  what  the 
Yanks  were  doing  spread  through  the  South. 

One  evening,  when  alone  with  Jean,  Seth  said, 
with  a  sudden  laugh — 

"  Jeannie,  where's  the  note  I  wrote  you  from  the 
cars?  The  one  John  brought  for  me.  Have  you 
burnt  it?" 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  Give  it  to  me,  dear,  then.     I  will." 

She  turned  to  look  at  him,  a  brightness  in  her 
eyes,  a  joy  in  her  face  he  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time, 
and  which  gave  him  a  sudden  pang. 

"  Seth,  do  you  mean  that  you  are — that  you  do 
not  feel  what  you  told  me  then  ?  " 

"  You  have  just  precisely  struck  it,  sweet;  onlyyou- 
might  put  it  more  strongly.  When  I  put  those  words 
to  paper,  I  was  the  most  sick  and  sorry  cuss  that  ever 
lived — ugh — I  was  limp  as  a  drowning  fly.  Meaner 
than  dirt.  I  tell  you  I  take  back  every  word  of  that 
letter,  and  all  I  said  to  John  next  day.     To  prove  it. 


108  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

I  may  inform  you,  mistress  mine,  that  if  my  arrange- 
ments can  be  fixed  up  as  I  have  figured  them  out  this 
afternoon,  I'll  be  with  the  boys  in  the  Shenandoah 
valley  within  two  weeks.     What  do  you  say  to  that?  " 

He  held  her  at  arm's  length,  the  better  to  catch 
the  full  effect  his  words  might  make. 

"  Oh,  Seth,  I  am  so  thankful — so  glad.  I  do  not 
know  how  to  express  what  I  feel.  I  was  determined 
I  would  never  ask  your  plans;  nor,  after  what  you 
have  suffered,  would  I  ever  urge  you  to  go  again — 
but  if  you  think  this!  Well,  I  think  it  is  perfect. 
It  will  be  very  hard  to  part  with  you  so  soon,  but  it 
is  just  what  a  man  like  you  would  want  to  do.  You 
could  not  fail  where  your  country  needed  you." 

"  My  country  ?  " — he  gave  a  little  laugh,  with  a 
touch  of  bitterness.  "  I  am  not  sure  that  my  coun- 
try has  very  much  to  do  with  it.  I  rather  think  it 
has  been  a  person  who  shall  be  nameless.  I  grant  she 
has  said  nothing;  but  her  face  has  not  been  silent. 
Speaking  soberly,  love,  it  has  come  to  me  lately  in 
a  way  it  never  came  before — either  I  would  go  to  the 
war  or  set  you  free  to  find  a  man  who  would." 

"  Nonsense,  Seth,"  she  cried  vehemently. 
"  Please  do  not  say  those  things;  you  do  yourself  in- 
justice. I  have  been  nothing.  If  I  had  not  been  in 
the  world  you  Avould  have  done  the  right;  I  know  you 
would." 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  he  said  slowly;  "  no,  I  do 
not.  I  am  not  weaker  than  the  average — not  so 
weak,  I  hope,  as  some.  But  to  sacrifice  all  that  is 
most  precious — you,  and  our  future  home,  for  duty,  I 
could  not  do  it.     Some  men  could — a  few — but  I  do 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  109 

not  belong  to  that  company,  and  the  sooner  you  real- 
ize that  the  better.  I  will  go  to  the  war;  but  if  you 
told  me  to  stop  at  home  and  marry  you,  I  would  let 
my  country  go.  I  am  speaking  the  plain  truth;  how 
do  you  like  it  ?  " 

He  smiled,  then  sighed,  and  looked  absently  out 
of  the  window.  His  mind  was  full  of  John  this  even- 
ing. Their  meeting  at  Marathon  had  proved  to  him 
beyond  a  doubt  of  the  noble  stuff  of  which  that  man 
was  made,  and  a  vague  desire  troubled  him  to  make 
Jean  see  what  he  saw  now.  Yet  the  wish  was  not 
easy  of  fulfilment,  and  Seth  let  it  drop  again,  and 
gave  himself  up  to  the  pleasure  her  answer  afforded 
him. 

"  I  will  not  have  you  say  such  absurdly  foolish 
things.  You,  who  have  never  spared  yourself,  who 
have  bled  in  the  cause,  and  dare,  with  open  eyes,  to 
do  so  again — to  say  you  cannot  do  your  duty!  You 
make  me  wild,  Seth.  Find  me  a  man  who  has  done 
more,  or  so  much.  That  you  once  felt  differently  is 
nothing;  I  could  never  bring  that  up  as  worth  a 
thought.  You  were  sick:  now  you  are  yourself 
again.  If  you  thought  what  was  foolish,  I  did  worse, 
for  I  was  unjust." 

"You?     Why?" 

"  I  did  wrong  to  a  good  man." 

Jean,  also,  was  thinking  of  John  to-night. 


CHAPTER    X. 

In  the  United  States  work  is  spelt  with  a  capital 
W.  The  business  competition  in  the  towns,  and  the 
strain  in  the  country  of  producing  the  largest  possible 
crops  at  the  smallest  possible  cost,  keeps  the  brains  and 
bodies  of  men  at  full  stretch  all  the  year  round.  Holi- 
days are  or  were  almost  unknown.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances it  is  not  surprising  to  find  that  in  charita- 
ble enterprises  women  usually  take  the  first  place. 
The  names  of  men  appear  in  prospectuses,  and  men 
grace  the  chair  at  public  meetings,  for  men  have 
money.  But  there  have  -been  few  philanthropic 
schemes,  large  or  small,  in  the  States  for  the  past  forty 
years  in  which  women  have  not  borne  the  chief  re- 
sponsibility and  held  the  power.  In  Chippewa  this 
was  as  much  the  case  as  elsewhere.  Whether  it  was  a 
soup  kitchen  in  a  hard  winter,  or  the  management  and 
distribution  of  supplies  for  the  wounded  at  the  time 
of  the  war,  such  matters  were  under  one  manager,  and 
only  one,  Mrs.  Haniman,  the  minister's  wife.  Mrs. 
Haniman  did  not  work  alone.  She  always  had  a 
committee,  of  which  Luke  Selby  M^as  usually  chair- 
man; and  out  of  that  committee  Mrs.  Haniman  con- 
trived to  get  both  work  and  money;  but  she  was  its 
guiding  spirit,  and  no  person,  or  persons  combined, 
110 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN   STEEL.  m 

ever  dreamed  of  questioning  any  action  that  she  might 
think  tit  to  take.  It  goes  without  saying  that  Mrs. 
Haniman  was  a  woman  of  character,  and  a  born  or- 
ganizer. But  she  was  a  great  deal  more  than  this. 
PubHc  Hfe  and  public  work,  of  one  sort  or  another, 
was  the  breath  of  her  existence;  and  it  was  her  firm 
conviction  that  the  highest  destiny  for  any  woman 
was  a  commanding  influence  in  public  affairs.  Mrs. 
Haniman  was  childless,  and,  though  by  no  means  a 
child-hater,  it  was  her  custom  to  point  out  to  all  who 
came  under  her  influence  that  while  there  were  un- 
doubtedly certain  women  who  were  more  fitted  for 
the  care  and  up-bringing  of  families  than  for  any- 
thing else,  every  woman  who  had  brains,  energy,  and 
ambition  should  consider  her  domestic  affairs  second- 
ary to  the  welfare  of  the  community  at  large.  This 
doctrine  she  preached  in  season  and  out  of  season, 
more  especially  to  young  girls,  with  results  that  were, 
at  times,  astonishing,  and  not  invariably  what  she  ap- 
proved herself.  Her  aptest  pupil  was  Jean.  Since 
Jean's  childhood,  despite  mild  protests  from  Mrs. 
Selby  and  very  vigorous  ones  from  Mrs.  Burletson, 
Mrs.  Haniman  had  steadily  worked  upon  the  ambi- 
tious side  of  the  girl's  nature,  and  as  Jean  grew  to 
womanhood  a  desire  for  public  work  and  interest  in 
the  welfare  of  those  around  her — in  the  mass — be- 
came her  ruling  passion.  In  all  things  she  had  been 
Mrs.  Haniman's  loyal  disciple,  until  at  length  her 
own  native  energy  and  will  enabled  her  to  strike  out 
a  path  of  her  own.  Since  the  fall  of  Fort  Sumter, 
for  instance,  Jean  had  out-done  even  Mrs.  Haniman 
in  her  enthusiasm  for  the  war,  and  exercised  a  far 


112  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

greater  influence  in  inducing  men  to  volunteer — 
thanks,  perhaps,  to  her  youth  and  good  looks — than 
her  teacher.  No  one  was  more  pleased  at  this  than 
Mrs.  Haniman.  There  \vas  not  a  particle  of  petty 
pride  in  her  nature.  Her  only  regret  was  that  there 
was  not  a  score  of  Jeans.  Mrs.  Haniman  was  one  of 
the  warmest  approvers  of  Jean's  engagement  to  Seth. 
She  had  known  John  from  childhood,  and  was  too 
shrewd  not  to  read  the  character  of  the  man,  in  spite 
of  all  his  gentleness.  Jean,  from  Mrs.  Haniman's 
point  of  view,  could  never  grow  to  the  full  stature 
Providence  intended  for  women  if  she  married  a  man 
stronger  than  herself.  As  Seth's  wife,  she  would 
take  the  lead  and  be  in  a  woman's  rightful  place — • 
in  command.  All  that  Jean  needed  now,  in  Mrs. 
Haniman's  opinion,  was  full  scope  for  her  energies; 
and  no  sooner  were  the  ranks  of  the  volunteer  regi- 
ments filled  up,  and  the  feelings  and  patriotism  of 
every  man  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Chippewa  who 
could  reasonably  be  expected  to  enlist,  sufficiently 
worked  upon,  than  the  creation  of  a  new  work,  in 
which  Jean  should  take  a  leading  part,  began  to 
agitate  Mrs.  Haniman's  mind,  and  the  day  after  Seth 
departed  again  for  the  war  she  called  at  the  store  to 
propound  it. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and,  to  Mrs. 
Haniman's  surprise,  Jean  was  in  the  kitchen  cleaning 
the  stove.  It  turned  out  that  Mrs.  Selby,  after  rising 
as  usual  at  five,  had  been  obliged  to  return  to  her  bed 
with  a  severe  headache,  and  that  Jean  had  stepped 
into  the  breach.  Upon  the  confusion  caused  by  this 
untoward  incident  Mrs.  Haniman  came — a  tall,  com- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  113 

manding  woman,  with  a  fresh-coloured  face,  aquiline 
features,  prominent  blue  eyes,  and  a  deep  voice.  It 
was  a  fine  voice,  and  musical,  but  it  was  marred  by 
a  curious  monotony  of  tone.  It  was  said  by  many 
that  while  Mrs.  Haniman's  opinions  were  always  dis- 
tinctly and  impressively  delivered,  she  was  apt  not  to 
listen  to  those  of  other  people. 

"  My  dear,  this  is  very  iinfortunate  for  you,"  she 
said,  after  she  had  been  told  about  Mrs.  Selby's  ill- 
ness. "  I  have  come  to  see  you  about  a  matter  of 
great  importance,  and  to  which  you  must  give  me 
your  undivided  attention." 

Jean  looked  despairingly  at  her  hands. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  about  it  of  all  things,  but 
you  can  see  how  I  am  placed.  I  must  fly  round  all  I 
know,  or  there  will  be  a  scrap  dinner  for  father,  and 
bread  and  molasses  for  the  children.  It  Just  happens, 
of  course,  because  mother  is  sick  there  is  nothing 
cooked  in  the  house.  I  could  manage  an  hour  this 
afternoon." 

Mrs.  Haniman  smiled.  Her  face  did  not  look  so 
pleasant  when  she  smiled,  perhaps  because  smiling 
was  not  natural  to  her. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  laying  her  umbrella  upon 
the  kitchen  table,  "  I  would  not  have  come  at  this 
hour  if  any  other  would  have  suited  me.  I  must 
write  twenty  letters  at  least  before  five  o'clock. 
No;  we  will  talk  now.  I  will  tell  your  father  my- 
self, on  my  way  out,  that  he  must  be  satisfied  with 
cold  fare  to-day;  and,  as  for  the  children,  how 
many  a  poor  man's  child  has  to  be  content  all  the 
year   round    with    hunks    of    bread    and    molasses? 


114  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

My  business  is  too  important  for  delay.  Listen 
here." 

Mrs.  Haniman  drew  from  a  neat  leather  bag  a 
letter,  written  by  a  lady  in  Chicago,  the  wife  of  a 
newspaper  editor,  and  a  woman  of  position  and  power, 
one  of  the  first  organizers  of  the  great  "  Sanitary 
Commission."  Some  one  had  told  her  of  Mrs.  Hani- 
man,  and  she  wrote  to  suggest  that  a  sub-depot  should 
be  established  at  Chippewa  for  the  collection  and  dis- 
tribution of  comforts  and  necessaries  for  the  wounded 
soldiers;  and  she  wanted  to  know  whether  Mrs.  Hani- 
man  would  organize,  and  make  herself  responsible 
for,  the  management  of  this  depot.  The  writer  con- 
cluded by  cordially  inviting  Mrs.  Haniman  to  visit 
Chicago,  to  talk  over  and  arrange  all  the  details  of 
the  scheme. 

"  I  am  bound  to  go,"  Mrs.  Haniman  said;  "  but 
I  can  only  see  this  thing  through  if  you  will  help  me. 
No  one  woman  will  ever  be  able  to  take  charge  of  all 
that  will  come  if  the  idea  gets  hold  upon  our  folk — 
which  I  am  sure  it  will.  No  one  but  you  has  the 
brains  and  the  backbone  to  run  it.  We  will  have  no 
men  fooling  around.  They  may  give — they  shall 
give — money;  but  the  work  will  be  too  responsible  for 
them.     Will  you  take  it?" 

Jean's  answer  lay  in  the  brightness  of  her  face. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Yes,  a  hundred  times.  But  am  I 
smart  enough  and  strong  enough?  You  must  not 
Judge  me  by  yourself.     Tell  me  what  it  amounts  to." 

"  Why,  just  this,"  Mrs.  Haniman  answered,  with 
the  precision  of  a  woman  of  business,  none  of  her 
enthusiasm  visible  either  in  face  or  manner,  "  we  have 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  115 

sent  the  boys  to  the  war,  you  know,  we  women. 
Warfare  means  the  giving  of  wounds  and  death.  It 
is  our  duty,  I  take  it,  our  particular  duty,  to  see  that 
everything  is  done  that  can  be  done  for  our  wounded 
men.  Of  course  there  are  surgeons  and  hospitals; 
but,  as  might  have  been  expected,  the  doctors  are 
careless  and  worse,  and  the  hospitals  not  fit  for 
sick  cattle.  How  is  this  to  be  changed?  Who  is  to 
change  it?  You  have  the  answer  in  this  letter.  The 
women,  the  women  of  the  Union.  Not  one  or  two, 
but  all,  working  together  in  a  compact  organization. 
We  will  have  first  to  make  appeals;  but  that  will  be 
easy.  Eead  the  account  of  what  goes  on  in  hospital 
and  in  camp.  The  railways  carry  troops  to  the  front 
and  leave  them  there,  after  a  journey  of  twenty-four 
hours,  without  a  bite  of  food  or  a  drop  of  water. 
When  the  food  comes  it  is  often  bad,  and  only  fit  for  a 
hog.  As  for  the  sick,  the  boys  are  writing  to  say  that 
the  hospitals  are  so  miserable  that  they  won't  go  into 
them.  You  remember  what  Seth  told  us  about  the 
difficulty  he  found  in  getting  water  when  he  was  sick, 
and  how  that  was  dirty — yet  that  was  a  hospital  in 
Washington.  The  sheds  at  the  front  they  call  by 
the  name  of  hospitals  are  in  the  hands  of  doctors, 
many  of  whom  drink,  I  am  told;  while,  as  for  nurses, 
they  will  have  none  yet." 

"  A  nurse!  "  Jean  cried.  "  That  is  what  I  would- 
like  to  be  best  of  all.  A  nurse  at  the  front — within 
sound  of  the  guns." 

Mrs.  Haniman  smiled  her  peculiar  smile. 

"  Is  that  your  ambition?     You  will  get  it,  I  hope; 
but  wait  a  bit.     There  is  work  at  home  to  your  hand. 


116  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

I  am  told  the  men — these  doctors — say  nothing  is  re- 
quired; that  hospitals  for  forty  where  there  are  a 
thousand  sick;  stores  of  food  rotting  away  where 
there  is  no  one  to  eat  it;  starvation,  or  near  it,  where 
the  army  lays,  is  right  and  reasonable.  Why  do  they 
t*ay  it?  Because  only  politics,  fighting,  and  dollar- 
hunting  interests  men.  It  is  time  we  women  took 
hold.  That  is  what  this  lady  means  by  a  Sanitary 
Commission.  Every  big  town  in  our  State  will  have 
its  sub-depot  for  stores,  and  form  a  local  aid  society 
of  women,  which  will  be  directly  in  communication 
with  the  Commission.  We  will  find  out  what  things 
are  most  needed,  appeal  for  them,  pack  them,  and 
start  'em  for  the  front.  There  \vill  be  medicines,  and 
warm  clothing,  and  any  kind  of  useful,  comforting 
things  folk  have  to  give.  There  is  the  work.  Will 
you  take  it  vip  with  me?" 

"  Most  willingly." 

"  I  will  write  to-day,  then,  and  go  to  Chicago 
next  week,  leaving  the  work  I  have  in  hand  just  now 
with  you.  When  I  get  back  we  will  start  a  store- 
room and  committee.     Now  I  must  go." 

Mrs.  Haniman  rose  with  a  brisk  nod,  and  walked 
away  thoroughly  satisfied  with  herself  and  her  morn- 
ing's work.  Luke  was  of  a  different  opinion  when  he 
found  a  dry  and  scanty  dinner  awaiting  him;  the 
children  complained  sadly  at  bread  and  molasses — all 
Jean  could  find  for  them;  and  Mrs.  Selby  wept  bitter- 
ly in  her  room  upstairs.  She  had  felt  unwell  for  some 
weeks,  and  was  haunted  by  a  gnawing  anxiety  about 
herself.  Her  doctor  refused  to  say  what  was  the  mat- 
ter.    "  It  may  be  only  temporary,"  he  said,  "  we  must 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  II7 

wait  and  see.  Meantime  keep  you  quiet,  and  take 
things  easily."  But  his  looks  had  belied  his  soothing 
words,  and  the  events  of  this  day  were  a  climax  to 
Mrs.  Selby's  woes.  What  would  happen  to  her  little 
ones  if  she  were  to  become  unable  to  care  for  their 
comfort  and  well-being?  It  was  clear  to  her  that 
Jean  was  not  to  be  depended  upon. 

This  opinion  might  have  been  modified  if  ]\Irs. 
Selby  had  seen  the  tremendous  efforts  Jean  made  to 
provide  an  extra  good  supper  for  her  family  this  even- 
ing, and  put  the  house  in  order.  But  she  did  not  see 
it,  and  the  next  day  rose  from  her  bed,  despite  the 
doctor,  and  quietly  turned  Jean  out.  Jean  hardly 
noticed  at  the  time  how  ill  her  mother  looked.  Her 
thoughts  by  day  and  her  dreams  by  night  were  of  the 
Sanitary  Commission  and  the  best  possible  way  of 
helping  to  bring  comfort  and  relief  to  thousands  of 
heroic  suffering  men.  She  wrote  daily  to  Mrs.  Hani- 
man,  and  received  long  letters  in  return,  full  of  ac- 
counts of  the  great  doings  in  Chicago.  Upon  Mrs. 
Haniman's  return  the  work  began,  and  early  and 
late  Jean  sat  upon  a  straight-backed  office  chair,  and 
wrote  letters  by  the  hour,  or  was  on  her  feet  the 
whole  day  in  the  store-room,  impacking  and  repack- 
ing boxes  of  clothing,  inspecting  canned  fruit  and 
canned  meats,  and  sorting  out  baskets  of  toys  and 
boxes  of  candy,  these  last  sent  mostly  by  children  to 
amuse  the  hospital  patients'  leisure  hours.  It  was 
hard  work,  and  became  harder  as  the  volume  of  the 
business  grew  with  rapid  strides,  and  to  send  "  some- 
thin'  away  to  the  boys  "  became  a  ruling  passion  in 
every  Union  household,  regardless  of  whether  that 


118  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  somethin' "  was  likely  to  be  of  any  use.  The  self- 
denial  and  devotion  of  the  poorer  folk  was  very  touch- 
ing. Here  the  wife  of  a  labourer  brought  her  hus- 
band's spare  shirts,  with  the  remark  that  "  he'd  said 
they  could  go,  and  he'd  chance  gettin'  more  come 
winter-time;  "  there  an  old  couple  handed  in  a  pair  of 
fat  chickens  "  to  be  biled  for  broth;  they  are  all  we 
can  spare — we  ain't  got  no  money  to  give."  One 
small  boy,  the  raggedest  of  street  urchins,  con- 
tributed five  cents  a  week  regularly,  and  when  told 
that  he  should  buy  himself  a  pair  of  shoes  first,  for 
he  was  bare-foot,  replied  with  scorn,  "  Shucks!  what 
I  give  yer  I  spend  on  terbacker;  but  I  reckon  them 
boys  want  it  more  than  me.  I'll  do  without  it  till 
the  Rebs  climb  down!  "  Queer  articles  of  clothing 
would  arrive  sometimes,  from  boot-laces  and  hair- 
combs  to  knee-breeches  and  dress-shirts.  Delicacies 
of  a  perishable  nature,  such  as  honey  and  fresh  fruits, 
came  in  from  long  distances,  and  caused  much  tribu- 
lation to  the  committee.  On  the  other  hand,  grate- 
ful letters  from  "  the  boys  "  were  delightful  to  read; 
the  demand  from  the  army  increased  faster  than  the 
supply;  while  the  authorities  became  less  and  less 
antagonistic  to  the  scheme  as  they  found  that  its  in- 
defatigable promoters  were  doing  their  best  to  be 
business-like  and  practical,  and  induce  the  public  to 
send  what  was  needed  at  the  front,  instead  of  what 
it  did  not  want  at  home. 

But  these  things  were  more  easily  promised  than 
performed.  Jean  often  said  to  Mrs.  Haniman  that 
until  she  took  up  this  work  she  had  not  a  notion  that 
there  were  so  many  foolish  people  in  the  world  as  she 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  HQ 

now  found  in  northern  Wisconsin.  When  the  com- 
mittee gained  experience,  it  began  to  find  that  firm 
refusal  and  prompt  return  of  all  unnecessary  and  use- 
less gifts  was  essential  to  the  credit  of  the  Commis- 
sion; and  the  storm  of  indignation  from  the  donors 
of  these  gifts  which  fell  upon  Jean,  as  the  committee's 
secretary,  was  very  wearing.  Then  Jean  worked  far 
too  hard.  All  through  the  rest  of  the  summer  she 
laboured  without  respite  or  holiday.  Even  when 
winter  came,  and  she  caught  a  chill,  she  refused  to 
take  any  care  of  herself,  and  developed  a  cough, 
which  lasted  until  the  spring,  and  gave  her  mother 
much  anxiety.  Yet  nothing  was  to  be  done,  for  no 
persuasions  or  arguments  could  convince  Jean  that 
her  health  was  of  any  importance  compared  with 
her  work.  Mrs.  Haniman  never  rested;  why  should 
she?  The  boys  were  fighting  and  suffering  in  Vir- 
ginia; it  would  be  mean  and  cowardly  to  relax  efforts 
on  their  behalf  at  home.  Mrs.  Selby,  in  her  distress 
and  perplexity,  was  so  seriously  concerned  about  the 
matter  that  she  consulted  her  husband.  But  she  re- 
ceived no  sympathy  there. 

"  My  good  Martha,  you  are  over-anxious.  I  have 
my  eyes  open,  and  can  see  Jean  is  not  so  stout  as  she 
was,  but  my  belief  is  that  the  work  ain't  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it.  She  is  not  happy.  She  is  restless  all  the 
time;  the  work  is  good  so  far,  for  it  employs  her 
mind.  My  notion  is  quite  a  different  one  from  yours. 
It  is  in  my  head,  between  ourselves,  that  if  the  Lord 
in  His  mercy  should  see  fit  to  send  that  boy  Seth  to 
a  better  world,  Jean,  when  the  shock  has  passed, 
would  be  a  different  girl.     I  will  have  nothing,  any- 


120  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

way,  said  against  this  work.  It  is  the  best  the  women 
in  this  country  ever  tried  to  do.  By-the-by,  have 
•you  heard  that  John  Burletson  is  selling  horses  to 
the  Government?  That  man,  my  dear,  is  coining 
money.  I  always  knew  he  would.  As  to  Jean,  we 
have  no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  our  little  girl." 

Luke  himself  had  not  indeed.  He  had  never 
done  so  brisk  a  trade  as  since  the  day  "  the  Sanitary  " 
was  established.  Mrs.  Selby  after  this  went  on  her 
way  in  silence  anxiously  watching  Jean,  and  bearing 
with  dumb  patience  her  own  slowly  but  surely  in- 
creasing ill-health.  She  made  no  complaint,  and 
only  her  doctor  knew  how  much  she  suffered;  though, 
thanks  to  a  marvellous  constitution,  she  was  able, 
and  would  be  for  a  long  time,  to  do  her  part  for  her 
children  and  her  house. 

A  day  came  at  length  when  even  Jean  felt  that 
her  present  work  was  undermining  health  and  nerve 
without  adequate  results,  and  decided  to  give  it  up. 
The  decision,  which  cost  her  many  sleepless  nights, 
she  determined  to  communicate  first  of  all  to  Mrs. 
Haniman.  Mrs.  Haniman,  somewhat  to  Jean's  sur- 
prise, received  the  announcement  as  if  she  had  ex- 
pected it,  though  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  You  have  been  our  right  hand,  my  dear,  and  we 
can  ill  spare  you;  but  if  it  has  to  be  it  must.  What 
shall  you  do  with  your  free  hours?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  train  for  a  nurse,  and  go  to  the 
front  as  soon  as  I  may." 

"  What!  Go  to  the  war?  "  And  Mrs.  Haniman 
looked  at  her  in  blank  astonishment. 

"  Yes;  I  was  reading  accounts  of  the  need  they 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  121 

had  for  nurses,  and  how  many  girls  were  training, 
and  I  felt  that  I  must  go  too.  It  has  been  an  idea 
of  mine  for  a  very  long  time.  I  hoped  you  would 
have  approved." 

"  I  do — I  do,  decidedly,"  Mrs.  Haniman  replied 
with  emphasis,  yet  with  a  reservation  in  her  tone 
Jean  could  not  understand.  "  But  what  has  your 
father  to  say  about  it,  and  your  mother?  Your 
mother  most  of  all?" 

"  I  have  not  told  them  yet,  but  I  do  not  expect 
any  difficulty  there.  They  never  interfere  with  any 
plans  of  mine." 

Mrs.  lianiraan  coughed  and  assented,  then  absent- 
ly played  with  her  pen  and  remained  silent  as  if  in 
deep  thought.  This  proposition  of  Jean's  placed  her 
in  a  very  awkward  position.  The  girl's  plan  would 
answer  her  most  cherished  purpose,  for  the  work  of  the 
committee  would  be  strengthened  tenfold  by  the  pres- 
ence of  an  agent  on  the  spot.  On  the  other  hand,  not 
twenty-four  hours  ago  she  had  made  a  promise  which 
it  was  incumbent  upon  her  to  keep,  and  which  charged 
her  to  say  certain  things  that  might  entirely  change 
Jean's  plans.     After  a  pause  she  remarked — 

"  I  don't  know  any  one  who  would  make  a  better 
nurse.  I  think  it  is  the  career  that  fits  you  best. 
But  the  opinion  has  been  expressed  to  me,  and  I  have 
promised  that  you  should  know  it,  that  your  mother 
is  too  sick  for  you  to  leave  your  home  or  even  to  stay 
by  us  for  the  Sanitary." 

"Mother — sick?  She  has  never  told  me!  What 
is  the  matter?  " 

"I  cannot  say,"  Mrs.  Haniman  said  with  a  curi- 


122  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

ous  reticence.  "  I  should  not  have  remarked  it  my- 
self.    I  tell  you  what  I  am  told." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  A  friend  who  knows,  or  thinks  she  knows,  a 
great  deal  about  such  things.  I  hardly  like  mention- 
ing her  name  after  what  has  passed." 

"  I  must  know  it,  please." 

"  John  Burletson's  mother." 

Jean  flushed  fierily. 

"  Did  you  ask  for  her  authority?  Why  does  she 
interfere?  I  don't  mean  to  be  disrespectful;  but 
why  did  she  not  come  herself  and — and  what  busi- 
ness is  it  of  hers  anyway?  " 

Mrs.  Haniman  pursed  her  lips  and  shook  her 
head. 

"  Mrs.  Burletson  said  to  mc "  she  went  on. 

"  Thank  you,  I  would  rather  not  hear  what  she 
said,"  Jean  interposed  warmly.  "  I  do  not  put  any 
weight  at  all  upon  evidence  that  comes  so  very  second 
hand.  If  you  know  of  your  own  knowledge  some- 
thing about  mother  that  I  do  not,  I  will  be  glad  if 
you  will  tell  me;  but  not  what  Mrs.  Burletson  says." 

"  I  have  told  you,"  Mrs.  Haniman  rejoined  in 
her  monotonous  tone,  "  that  I  know  nothing.  It  is 
what  I  have  been  informed." 

"  Then  that  settles  it.  If  anything  had  been 
really  wrong,  mother  would  have  let  me  know.  We 
need  not  go  into  it  further." 

Mrs.  Haniman  played  with  her  pen  again,  then 
she  said — 

"  What,  my  dear,  is  it  your  purpose  to  do?  " 

"  The  course  you  approved,  which  I  had  deter- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL,  123 

mined  upon.  I  can  assure  you  I  have  quite  made  up 
my  mind." 

Soon  after  this  Jean  went  home.  But  Mrs.  Hani- 
man  did  no  more  work  that  evening. 

"  I  did  my  duty,"  she  said  to  herself  many  times. 
"  I  could  not  tell  her  all  because  she  would  not  listen, 
and  she  will  do  more  good  by  being  away — good  to 
herself  and  to  others.  Why  should  her  life  be  ab- 
sorbed with  the  care  of  children  and  a  sick  mother? 
The  future  of  our  work  here  is  assured.  I  have  done 
right — I  have  done  right." 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  next  clay  J\Irs.  Haniman  put  off  two  engage- 
ments, and  left  unanswered  a  formidable  mass  of  cor- 
respondence to  make  time  for  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Bur- 
letson. 

"  I  wanted  you  to  know,  Sarah,"  she  said,  "  and 
from  my  own  lips,  that  I  spoke  to  Jean  last  night 
about  her  mother." 

Mrs.  Burletson  nodded  approvingly. 

"  That  was  right.     What  did  she  say?  " 

Mrs.  Haniman  folded  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and 
slightly  but  distinctl}'  raised  her  voice. 

"  You  Avill  remember  that  Jean's  mind  and  heart 
have  been  bent  since  she  was  a  child  upon  a  life  of 
devotion  to  her  fellow-creatures.  When  she  came 
last  night  to  resign  her  position  in  the  Sanitary " 

"  She  did  so! "  Mrs.  Burletson  exclaimed. 
"  Good  girl;  noble  girl.     I  have  misjudged  her." 

Mrs.  Haniman  coughed. 

"  Wait  one  moment.  Jean  has  resigned,  and  with 
my  full  approval,  so  that  she  may  receive  the  neces- 
sary training  as  a  nurse  before  she  goes  to  serve  in 
hospital  at  the  seat  of  war." 

All  this  Mrs.  Haniman  said  in  her  deepest  and 
most  impressive  manner,  as  if  anxious  that  her  listen- 
124 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  125 

er  should  not  fail  to  understand  the  full  significance 
of  every  word.  Mrs.  Burletson's  teeth  closed  with  a 
snap. 

"  What  did  you  say  to  her  then?  " 

"  I  kept  my  promise.  I  told  her  what  you  had 
said  about  her  mother.  She  asked  who  had  spoken 
so.  I  mentioned  your  name.  What  she  said  then  I 
will  not  repeat.  Her  last  words  were,  '  I  will  go  to 
the  war;  I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind.'  " 

"  Did  you  tell  her  what  Dr.  Selliger  said?  " 

"  I  mentioned  what  you  said.  I  have  not  seen 
him." 

"  You  know  what  he  told  me." 

"  Maybe  I  do,  Sarah;  but  you  must  remember 
that  since  John  saw  fit  to  draw  back  from  volunteer- 
ing, the  mention  of  his  name  or  yours  has  a  peculiarly 
contrary  effect  upon  Jean.  The  more  I  brought  you 
in,  the  more  set  she  became  to  follow  out  her  own 
idea." 

"  My  son,  Martha  Haniman,  never  drew  back,  and 
you  know  it  perfectly  well.  They  tried  to  push  him 
when  he  refused  to  go." 

Mrs.  Haniman  gave  a  deprecating  wave  of  the 
hand. 

"  I  have  not  come  to  argue  about  John." 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Burletson  said;  "  there  you  are  wise. 
Now  tell  me  again.  Jean  is  going  to  leave  home. 
What  do  her  folks  say?" 

"  When  Jean  has  told  me  her  mind,"  Mrs.  Hani- 
man said  complacently,  "  I  have  never  known  her 
parents  change  it." 

"  No,"    Mrs.    Burletson    said,    with    an    ominous 


126  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

quietness  of  tone;  "  the  child  has  had  a  bad  educa- 
tion. Martha  Selby  never  disciplined  her  any,  or 
tried  to  teach — except  ty  example — self-denial  and 
self-control.  Yet  I  am  disappointed.  I 'knew  Jean 
was  blind  and  headstrong;  but  that  she  could  ever 
turn  out  heartless  and  wicked,  I  would  never  have  be- 
lieved— if  you  had  not  told  me." 

Mrs.  Haniman  tapped  her  foot  imjiatiently  upon 
the  floor. 

"  Such  talk  is  pure  foolishness.  Jean  has  done 
right.  I  have  written  this  day  to  a  friend  of  mine  in 
Washington  who  will  advise  in  her  training.  You 
forget  yourself,  Sarah." 

"  I  say  wicked,"  Mrs.  Burletson  repeated,  her 
voice  still  unnaturally  quiet;  "  I  say  it  again.  Her 
mother  is  dying,  though  very  slowly.  She  may  live 
yet  for  years,  but  inch  by  inch  her  life  is  leaving  her. 
Yet  in  the  face  of  that — of  death  itself — that  girl 
can  go  away.  You  told  Jean,  of  course,  that  her 
mother  urns  dying?     Answer  me." 

Mrs.  Haniman  rose  with  dignity  to  lake  her 
leave. 

"  I  have  said  I  did  my  duty.     That  is  enough." 

"  Answer  my  question.  Did  you  tell  her  the 
whole  truth,  or  did  you  conceal  any  of  it?  No  empty 
phrases;  you  are  too  fond  of  them.  Tell  me  what 
you  said." 

"I  have  told  you  all." 

"Then  you  concealed  from  Jean  her  mother's 
danger?  I  have  done  the  child  a  wrong;  thank  God, 
I  have.  But  what  shall  I  say  to  you,  her  friend  whom 
she  has  followed  for  good  and  for  evil — aye,  for  evil 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  127 

— all  her  life?  No,  you  are  not  going  yet;  sit  down 
again.  I  have  more  upon  my  tongue.  Jean  in  her- 
self is  nothing  to  me  now.  The  war  craze,  the  glib 
talk  of  false  advisers,  turned  her  head,  which  never 
was  well-balanced,  until  she  chose  to  scorn  my  John, 
a  man  worth  ten — though  I,  his  mother,  say  it — of 
the  one  she  promises  to  marry.  From  the  time  I 
knew  this  I  have  not  cared  to  see  her  face.  But  her 
mother  is  my  friend.  You  despise  that  woman.  I 
happen  to  know  she  is  one  of  the  best  living;  and  if 
it  is  in  me  she  shall  not  be  sacrificed  to  the  mad  whim- 
sies of  a  war-sick  girl.  I  may  fail;  likely  I  will.  I 
am  a  woman  of  years  and  infirm,  and  my  temper  is 
more  infirm  than  my  limbs;  and  young  folk  want 
guiding  with  a  gentle  hand.  But  whatever  comes,  I 
have  learnt  something  I  never  thought  to  know.  I 
have  seen  a  woman  professing  the  Christian  religion, 
who  goes  forth  in  public  print  as  a  philanthropist — 
you,  Martha  Haniman — act  in  a  way  the  poorest  of 
your  husband's  flock  would  be  ashamed  to  act.  What 
do  you  say?  It  is  for  the  best?  Jean's  place  is  at 
the  war?  What  has  that  to  do  with  it?  Did  you 
tell  the  truth  ?  You  know  3'ou  did  not.  Go  home  to 
your  chamber.  Humble  your  proud  heart  before  the 
God  that  made  you;  then  say  whether  your  con- 
science approves  a  deliberate  concealment  from  this 
girl  that  her  mother  is  stricken  with  a  mortal  disease. 
Go,  and  let  it  be  a  long  time  before  you  come  within 
my  doors  again." 

The  old  lady  rose  to  her  feet,  her  bent  figure 
quivering,  and  her  eyes  flashing  fire.  Mrs.  Haniman 
tried  to  speak,  but  at  an  imperious  gesture  from  Mrs. 


128  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

Burletson  shrank  back,  and  went  away  without  a 
word. 

When  John  came  home  from  work  that  evening 
he  found  his  mother  lying  down,  worn  out.  She 
told  him  what  had  passed,  for  they  had  no  secrets 
from  one  another.     Her  eyes  wore  softer  now. 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure,"  she  said,  in  a  doubtful 
tone,  "  whether  I  did  not  drive  my  words  too  hard.  I 
expected  to  see  her  turn  upon  me,  but  she  left." 

John  laughed. 

"  I  should  say,  if  you  were  to  ask  for  my  opinion, 
that  this  was  all  Mrs.  Haniman  had  a  chance  to  do. 
I  would  wager  she  was  pleased  to  be  in  the  fresh  air, 
and  I  doubt  whether  her  ears  are  not  tingling  now. 
Don't  fret  one  little  bit,"  he  added  stoutly;  "  you 
have  not  said  too  much.  I  would  give  anything  to 
have  it  in  me  to  command  such  words  as  yours  when 
I  feel  hot.  But  I  cannot  do  it.  Those  which  come 
to  me  are  poor,  and  generally  stick  in  my  throat." 

"  Martha  Haniman  is  a  good  woman  at  heart," 
Mrs.  Burletson  said;  "but  oh,  the  harm,  John,  she 
has  done  your  girl " 

"My  girl!  mother?" 

"  Boy,  how  thoughtless  of  me!  No,"  she  said  in  a 
different  tone;  "  not  yours,  because  not  worthy." 

"  There  you  are  quite  wrong." 

He  spoke  with  some  emphasis;  but  Mrs.  Burlet- 
son was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  contradicted. 

"  I  say  I  am  right,  and  I  know  it.  Jean  is  not 
worthy  to  be  your  wife." 

"  It  is  not  just  to  speak  so  of  her." 

"  I  speak  of  what  I  know." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  129 

"  You  are  hard,  mother,  Jean  has  done  more 
than  any  one  person  for  the  boys  at  the  war.  When 
I  saw  her  yesterday  her  face  was  as  white  as  paper. 
Even  now  she  gives  this  up  to  go  where  all  the  ghast- 
ly horrors  are,  and  work  harder  still  among  wounds, 
and  disease,  and  death.  Mother,"  and  his  voice  trem- 
bled with  pent-up  feeling,  "  it  is  wonderful  to  me  to 
see  what  strength  of  mind  there  is  in  little  Jean. 
She  has  taught  me  what  a  woman  can  do,  as  you  have 
taught  me  what  a  woman  ought  to  be.  If  she  goes 
to  the  war " 

"  She  has  not  gone  yet,"  Mrs.  Burletson  said,  be- 
tween her  teeth. 

"  How  can  it  be  stopped  now?  " 

"  To-morrow  morning,  son  John,  if  you  are  not 
too  busy,  I  will  ask  you  to  drive  me  to  town." 

"  Town,  mother!  You  have  not  been  so  far  this 
six  months." 

"  Town,  John.  First  we  will  go  to  Jabez  Selli- 
ger.  I  told  you  what  he  said  about  Mrs.  Selby.  To- 
morrow he  shall  write  that  down.  Then,  sonny,  we 
drive  to  the  store." 

"You  intend  speaking  to  Jean?" 

"  She  will  have  all  my  mind,  John,  and  all  the 
doctor's  knowledge.  If  that  is  not  enough  to  stop 
her,  God  have  mercy  upon  her  soul,  and  on  Martha 
Haniman's — though  that  I  very  much  doubt." 

John  fidgeted  in  his  chair. 

"  Jean — Jean  has  a  high  spirit,  mother." 

Mrs.  Burletson  laughed. 

"  My  dearest  boy,  I  know  that  well.  I  will  keep 
my  temper,  and  hold  my  tongue,  you  may  be  sure. 


130  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

It  is  too  serious.  Besides,  Jean,  3'et  awhile  at  least, 
is  not  so  far  gone  as  Martha  Haniman." 

When  Mrs.  Burletson  saw  Jean  next  day  she  no- 
ticed many  unexpected  changes  in  the  young  face, 
and  her  voice  was  softer  and  more  gentle  than  she  had 
intended  it  to  be. 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear,  for  intruding  this  way  on 
your  work.  But  I  am  an  ailing  old  woman,  and  had 
to  come  the  first  day  I  could,  and  I  have  reasons  for 
seeing  you  that  are  very  urgent." 

Jean  murmured  some  inaudible  reply.  She  was 
flushed  and  nervous,  though  she  tried  to  appear  quite 
calm. 

Mrs.  Burletson  looked  at  the  girl  a  moment,  then 
took  her  hand  and  drew  her  to  a  chair  beside  her. 

"  You  guess  what  I  am  come  about.  Is  not 
that  so?" 

"  You  mean  my  mother." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  hear  you  think,"  Jean  went  on,  as  Mrs.  Bur- 
letson maintained  a  diplomatic  silence,  "  that  she  is 
sick,  too  sick  to  be  left  alone  to  care  for  them  all 
here." 

Mrs.  Burletson  pressed  the  hand  she  held. 

"  My  dear,  what  I  may  think  is  of  little  conse- 
quence.    Tell  me  what  you  feel." 

"  I  spoke  to  mother  this  morning.  She  said  noth- 
ing worth  mentioning  was  the  matter,  and  urged  me 
to  go  away.  She  promised  if  she  became  very  sick 
to  let  me  know.  I  told  her  I  could  not  leave  home 
else." 

"Nothing  the  matter,  did  she  say?"  Mrs.  Bur- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  131 

letson  answered.  "  You  shall  see  what  Dr.  Selli- 
ger  thinks.  I  made  him  write  it  down  for  you — for 
your  eyes  alone." 

She  handed  the  girl  an  open  letter,  and  Jean  read 
it  with  white  shocked  face. 

"  Cancer!  I  had  no  idea  of  that.  It  is  a  terrible 
disease." 

"  The  worst,"  Mrs.  Burletson  said  slowly,  "  the 
most  painful  there  is." 

"  Is  there  no  cure  at  all?  " 

"  You  see  what  he  says — none." 

Jean  looked  again  at  the  letter,  and  remained  si- 
lent for  some  minutes,  Mrs.  Burletson  narrowly 
watching  her,  and  trying  to  read  her  thoughts. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you.  You  were  very  good 
to  come  to  me." 

The  tone  in  which  these  words  were  spoken  was 
quite  simple  and  sincere,  but  they  bore  an  unmis- 
takable meaning,  and  Mrs.  Burletson  rose  to  take 
her  leave. 

"  It  is  a  sore  trial,  Jean." 

"  If  only  I  had  been  better  to  her  in  the  past,"  the 
girl  said  bitterly;  "  she  has  worked  and  suffered 
alone,  while  I,  who  might  have  shared  her  burdens, 
have  never  done  my  duty  once — not  once.  I  can  see 
it  now,  when  it  is  too  late.  I  should  have  seen  it 
long  ago." 

Jean's  voice  was  dry  and  hard,  and  though  Mrs. 
Burletson's  heart  leapt  up  in  hope  at  the  girl's  self- 
accusing  words,  there  was  something  repellent  in  her 
manner  that  puzzled  the  old  lady. 

"  Nothing  is  ever  too  late,"  she  said  softly.     "  It 


132  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

will  be  months — maybe  a  year  or  more — before  the 
end  comes,  Jean.     That  is  a  long  time." 

"  You  call  it  long?  After  all  these  years  I  have 
lived  for  myself,  it  seems  Just  nothing.  And  now, 
when  I  have  the  will,  I  find  I  have  not  the  power. 
I  cannot  nurse,  I  cannot  cook,  I  cannot  sew  to  amount 
to  anything.  She  has  done  it,  killing  herself  for  all 
of  us.  She  will  do  it  now  to  the  end,  in  spite  of  any 
one.  But,"  recollecting  herself,  "  I  am  keeping  you 
standing.     Good-bye." 

Mrs.  Burletson  did  not  move. 

"  Tell  me  first,  child,  what  you  are  going  to  do." 

There  was  a  ring  of  the  old  imperiousness  in  these 
words;  Jean  did  not  notice  it,  however.  Her  face 
was  full  of  pain  and  distress. 

"I?  Why  hunt  everywhere  I  know  for  a  woman 
who  can  do  for  mother  what  I  cannot  do— win  her 
confidence;  some  one  she  will  trust.  It  must  be  a 
very  good  woman,  so  good  that  she  may  be  hard  to 
find,  but  I  must  find  her  some  way." 

She  made  a  movement  toward  the  door,  but  Mrs. 
Burletson  did  not  see  it. 

"  Jean,  I  cannot  heft  the  meaning  of  your  words. 
Do  you  mean  that  your  mother  will  not  have  you — 
prefers  a  stranger?  " 

"  Just  that.  Oh,  she  is  right.  Lying  awake 
last  night,  I  saw  it  all.  I  deserve  nothing  less,  ter- 
ribly bitter  as  it  is." 

"  Tell  me  what  she  said — every  word." 

"  It  was  not  much.  I  had  thought,  before  I  knew 
how  bad  she  was — how  I  could  be  so  blind  I  cannot 
think — of  going  away  to  be  a  nurse  at  the  war.    I  told 


\ 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  133 

her  and  father  at  supper  yesterday.  Father  got  angry 
— real  mad — and  said  things  that  made  me  obstinate. 
Father  and  I  have  not  understood  one  another  lately." 

She  sighed  and  went  on. 

"  Then  mother  spoke  as  I  had  never  heard  her 
speak  before  to  father.  She  said  I  was  fitted  for  that, 
and  go  I  should,  if  I  rested  and  got  strong  first;  and 
that  he  need  not  mention  the  expense  of  training,  as 
she  w^ould  pay  it.  This  startled  him,  and  he  said  no 
more.  But  before  I  went  to  bed,  I  told  mother  that 
she  looked  sick,  and  that  I  would  not  leave  her.  At 
this  she  seemed  to  get  more  mad  at  me  than  she  was 
with  father.  First  she  said  what  I  told  you,  that  she 
did  not  feel  really  very  ill;  then  she  said  if  it  were  so, 
and  she  had  to  be  laid  right  up,  she  would  rather  have 
any  one  to  mind  the  children  and  nurse  her  than  me. 
I  told  her  I  would  learn  it  all,  but  she  would  not  lis- 
ten, and,  finally,  said  she  was  convinced  it  was  not  in 
me.  She  could  never  trust  me,  she  declared,  no  matter 
what  my  intentions  might  be.  '  Go  to  the  war,'  she 
said,  '  an'  nurse  soldiers.  If  you  stayed  at  home  and 
had  me  and  the  house  on  your  mind,  you'd  be  like 
some  caged  bird.'  I  tried  to  show  her  it  should  not 
be  so,  but  she  would  not  see  it.  There — you  have  it 
all." 

]\Irs.  Burletson  took  both  Jean's  hands  in  hers 
and  beamed  at  her. 

"  My  dear,  I  thank  you  for  this  confidence.  It  is 
very  precious  to  me.  Tell  me,  now,  what  you  feel 
yourself.  You  have  given  me  your  mother's  words — 
God  help  her — now  give  me  your  own." 

Jean  tried  to  release  her  hands. 


134  THE   GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  I  cannot,"  she  said  brusquely.  "  Why  should 
you  trouble  about  me  at  all,  I  cannot  think.  It  is 
mother  who  interests  you.  Oh,  I  know  well  what  you 
think  of  me." 

"  Do  you?  I  guess  you  do  not.  But  that  is  not 
the  question.  I  ask  you,  for  your  mother's  sake,  to 
tell  me  now  what  you  wish  to  happen  to  yourself? 
Do  you  feel  content  to  go  to  the  war  after  getting  her 
a  help?  That  is  the  question  I  will  have  answered 
before  I  go." 

Jean  shook  her  head,  and  again  tried  to  draw  her 
hands  away;  but  Mrs.  Burletson  held  them  fast. 

"  Jean,  child,  whom  I  loved  once — whom  I  love 
now — tell  me  your  thoughts  for  your  own  sake." 

"  I  feel " — Jean's  voice  was  hardly  more  than  a 
whisper,  and  she  spoke  with  white  lips — "  I  feel  if 
mother  would  have  me  now  she  would  never  regret  it. 
I  should  have  loved  nursing  the  boys,  but  that  is 
nothing  to  me  compared  to  being  with  mother.  I 
want  to  be  the  daughter  she  deserves  to  have.  But  it 
is  too  late.  I  have  been  tried;  she  has  found  me 
wanting,  and  it  breaks  my  heart — it  breaks  my  heart." 

Tears  came  now  and  choked  her.  Then  she  con- 
trolled herself  and  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  give  way  so;  why  did  you  let  me? 
You  must  have  wanted  to  go  long  since." 

"  Child,"  the  old  lady  said,  kissing  the  tear- 
stained  face,  "  I  am  going  right  now  to  see  your 
mother.  Wait  here.  Do  not  stir  one  step  until  she 
comes  to  vou." 


CHAPTER    XII. 

"  You  have  come  to  tell  me  about  your  plans?  I 
expected  you  before."  Mrs.  Haniman  spoke  with  a 
formality  of  manner  she  had  never  shown  toward 
Jean. 

"  I  would  have  called  in  the  afternoon,  but  this 
my  morning  was  interrupted,  and  I  had  to  make  up 
time.  You  know,  I  am  sure  you  know,  I  would  not 
keep  away  from  you." 

"  This  morning,"  said  Mrs.  Haniman,  considering 
— "  this  morning  I  saw  Mrs.  Burletson  in  town.  Was 
that  to  see  you?  " 

"Yes.  Was  it  not  good  of  her?"  and  Jean's 
face  brightened  in  a  way  Mrs.  Haniman  could  not  fail 
to  see. 

"W^iat  had  she  to  tell  you?"  The  words  came 
quickly,  as  though  Mrs.  Haniman  were  a  little  out  of 
breath. 

"  A  great  deal,"  Jean  said;  "  more — far  more 
than  I  had  any  idea  of.  Afterward  mother  and  I 
talked  everything  through.  Mrs.  Haniman,  I  am  not 
going  to  the  war." 

"Have  you — quite  made  up  your  mind?" 

Jean  looked  a  little  foolish. 

"  You  think  me  weak  and  changeable.     I  do  not 

135 


136  THE   GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

wonder.  But  I  am  sure  I  have  decided  rightly  now. 
I  am  very  sorry  to  disappoint  your  plans." 

Mrs.  Haniman  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  Now  it  is  coming,"  Jean  thought,  and  braced 
herself  for  a  storm. 

"  Your  mother,  then,  is  very  sick?  "  Mrs.  Hani- 
man  said. 

"  She  can  never  be  better,"  Jean  answered,  with 
a  break  in  her  voice,  though  she  tried  to  keep  it 
steady. 

Mrs.  Haniman  cleared  her  throat. 

"  Martha — your  mother — has  been  good  to  you, 
Jean — the  best  of  mothers." 

"  The  very  best." 

"  She  is  a  true  Christian;  yet  some  have  said  her 
mind  was  narrow,  her  ideas  poor  and  few.  I  do  not 
think " — again  Mrs.  Haniman  cleared  her  throat — 
"  I  say  I  do  not  think  that-  any  one  will  ever  speak 
that  way  again." 

"  Not  in  my  hearing,"  Jean  exclaimed. 

"  Neither  in  mine.  There  are  some  of  us  who 
might  learn  more  from  your  mother  than  they  know 
themselves.  But  you  wish  to  go.  Well,  it  is  my 
opinion,  now,  that  you  are  right.  The  Sanitary  will 
miss  you  most  of  all.  But  5fou  do  well.  Tell  your 
mother,  my  dear,  with  my  love,  that  I  said  that,  will 
you?     She  might  like  to  know." 

The  news  of  Mrs.  Selby's  illness,  and  of  Jean's 
resignation  of  her  official  duties,  was  a  great  shock  to 
Chippewa.  "  ]\Iother  "  Selby  had  been  looked  upon 
as  one  to  whom  sickness  was  unknown,  and  for  Jean 
to  take  to  domestic  work  was  a  nine  days'  wonder. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  137 

Every  one,  however,  was  full  of  sympathy,  and  had 
Mrs.  Selby  accepted  all  the  offers  of  help  she  received, 
Jean,  so  far  as  the  work  of  the  house  went,  might 
have  sat  in  idleness  all  day  long.  So  many  of  the 
poor  women  Mrs.  Selby  had  befriended  wished  to  do 
something.  One  offered  to  scrub  the  floor,  another 
to  "  bathe  the  little  ones  Saturdays,"  a  third  to  do  the 
mending.  As  Mrs.  Selby  said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
"  You  never  know  how  good  folk  really  are  until  your 
hard  times  come." 

Times  were  hard  for  all  in  Chippewa.  The  year 
of  1861  had  worn  to  its  close;  the  summer  of  1862  had 
come,  and  there  was  no  peace  nor  likelihood  of  it. 
The  grim  war-clouds  which  gathered  over  the  land 
were  deeper  and  more  threatening  than  ever,  and  men 
went  to  store  or  field  with  faces  which  grew  more 
anxious  day  by  day.  Not  only  had  nearly  every 
family  a  father,  husband,  or  brother  at  the  war  who 
were  dropping  fast  from  wounds  and  disease,  but  a 
large  proportion  of  these  soldiers  had  been  breadwin- 
ners for  others  before  they  volunteered,  and  to  the 
anxiety  for  their  safety  was  added  the  pinch  of  dis- 
tress at  home.  This  was  balanced,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, by  the  increased  value  of  labour,  and  many  a 
strong,  brave-hearted  woman  went  into  workshop  or 
factory,  and  not  only  succeeded  in  keeping  the  wolf 
from  the  door,  but  sent  out  stores  of  comforts  to  "  the 
boys."  Mrs.  Haniman  could  tell  of  numbers  of  in- 
stances where  poor  widows,  with  little  mouths  of  their 
own  to  feed,  brought  offerings  of  comforters  and  stock- 
ings, made  with  their  own  hands  after  the  work  of 
the  day  was  over.     But  not  all  women  were  strong; 


138  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

and  there  were  the  sick  and  aged.  These  helpless 
ones  suffered  terribly  in  such  a  time  as  this,  when 
the  resources  of  all  charitable  peojDle,  rich  as  well  as 
poor,  were  strained  by  the  constant  calls  upon  them 
to  send  help  to  the  army.  In  Chippewa,  after  the 
fact  became  known,  a  systematic  effort  was  made  by 
a  small  body  of  citizens  to  provide  a  fund  to  meet 
this  need.  The  money  was  subscribed  privately,  and 
disbursed  by  members  of  a  small  committee  composed 
of  some  of  the  principal  donors.  Here  the  mainte- 
nance of  a  fatherless  child  was  provided  at  an  orphan 
school,  or  a  home  found  for  it  in  a  neighbour's  fam- 
ily; there  a  widow  was  taught  a  trade,  and  her  fam- 
ily supported  until  she  could  earn  a  living  for  her- 
self; or  an  allowance  was  given  to  an  old  couple  until 
their  sons  now  on  the  Rappahannock  could  do  their 
duty  by  their  parents;  while  nourishment  and  medi- 
cal comforts  were  given  to  the  sick  whose  friends  and 
relatives  were  unable  to  do  more  than  find  them  a 
home.  The  committee  who  undertook  this  work  was 
composed  exclusively  of  men.  John,  who  was  its 
founder,  had  made  this  a  sine  qua  non.  The  object 
he  had  in  view  was  to  avoid  publicity  and  fuss,  and 
he  politely  but  firmly  refused  all  co-operation  from 
the  Chippewa  ladies.  As  the  meetings  of  the  com- 
mittee were  held  at  his  farm  in  the  presence  of  his 
mother,  a  woman's  experience  and  knowledge  were 
always  at  its  disposal,  and  a  nurse  was  employed  for 
sick  cases;  but  the  work  of  the  society  was  done  by 
men.  David  Haniman,  the  minister,  was  a  member; 
Dr.  Selliger  was  chairman;  the  county  attorney 
gave  more  time  than  he  could  well  spare;  but  the 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  139 

main  support  of  the  whole  was  John  himself.  He 
did  more  work  and  gave  more  money  than  all  the 
rest;  only  his  mother  knew  how  much.  It  was  a 
great  help  and  comfort  to  him.  During  those  hard 
years  up  to  '64,  when  circumstances  drew  him  by 
force  from  his  quiet  life  and  swejDt  away  all  his  reso- 
lutions; during  those  years  he  was  wrestling  fiercely 
with  himself,  his  back  against  the  wall.  Jean  was 
not  the  main  cause  of  this,  though  had  she  never 
turned  against  him  the  battle  would  not  have  been 
so  bitter.  The  real  trial  was  to  see  the  task  of  the 
Union  Army  growing  harder  month  by  month;  to 
hear  the  cry  for  men — more  men;  yet  to  be  obliged 
himself  to  stand  on  one  side,  a  passive  spectator, 
when  he  would  have  given  his  heart's  blood  to  be  in 
the  midst  of  it.  But  he  never  wavered  in  his  resolu- 
tion. The  need  his  mother  felt  for  his  presence  was 
too  obvious.  She  had  told  the  simple  truth,  and 
John  knew  it,  when  she  said  that  if  he  had  gone  to 
the  war  she  would  not  have  lived  a  month.  This 
knowledge,  and  his  own  humility  about  himself,  kept 
John  still  and  outwardly  quiet.  He  flattered  himself 
that  his  mother  never  knew  the  storm  that  raged  be- 
neath the  coolness  of  his  manner  when  they  discussed 
the  movements  of  the  troops,  and  marked  out  on 
maps  he  was  always  buying  the  position  of  the  armies, 
the  advance  and  retreat  of  the  Union  Generals  Mc- 
Clellan,  and  Pope,  foiled  and  discomfited  again  and 
again  by  the  Southerners,  Lee  and  Stonewall  Jack- 
son. As  the  months  passed  on,  and  the  summer  of  '62 
began  to  turn  to  autumn,  in  John's  heart,  as  in  those 
of  all  Union  men,  a  sore  and  angry  feeling  grew  that 


140  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

this  condition  of  things  must  end.  The  Union  army 
was  far  better  equipped  than  the  Confederates,  and 
had  the  larger  numbers.  The  soldiers  by  this  time 
were  brave,  hardy,  and  well-trained.  Yet  still  the 
rebels  held  the  field. 

It  was  September,  and  in  the  Northern  States  the 
peace  and  beauty  of  the  country  contrasted  sadly  with 
the  miseries  and  restlessness  of  men.  A  rumour  had 
gone  forth,  no  one  knew  why  or  whence,  spreading 
with  great  swiftness  to  the  remotest  corners  of  the 
States,  that  a  momentous  change  of  policy  was  under 
consideration.  At  first  it  was  said  that  Lincoln 
wished  to  declare  peace;  but  this  report  was  soon  dis- 
credited and  superseded  by  another,  said  to  come 
from  the  highest  sources,  that  though  a  peace-party 
was  in  the  Cabinet  itself,  and  growing  stronger 
every  day,  Lincoln  himself,  like  some  great  cone 
of  granite  beaten  by  an  angry  sea,  stood  sternly  in 
the  way. 

In  Chippewa  the  excitement  and  suspense  was  in- 
tense. Men  and  women  who  had  not  spoken  to  each 
other  for  years,  stopped  in  the  street  to  talk  and  ask 
for  news.  Thus  one  evening  when  John  rode  into 
town,  as  he  did  now  every  day,  and  met  Jean  and 
Mrs.  Haniman,  it  gave  him  no  shock  to  see  Jean  come 
forward. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  There  is  news  at  last, 
and  father  is  going  to  read  it  aloud.  The  store  is 
crowding  up  already.  Come  with  us  to  the  plat- 
form." 

The  place  was  full,  but  John  quickly  made  way 
for  his  companions  until,  as  on  that  Saturday  even- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  141 

ing  long  ago,  he  stood  behind  Luke  Selby,  side  by 
side  with  Jean. 

Luke  was  waiting  for  silence,  and,  man  of  easy 
self-possession  as  he  was,  his  face  was  pale  to-day. 
.  The  store  was  full;  but  not  with  young  men  crying 
out  for  war.  In  their  places  were  women  and  men 
with  careworn  faces,  many  in  deepest  morning,  all 
with  hearts  aching  for  boys  whom  they  might  never 
see  again. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  Luke  began,  and  at  his  words 
every  one  fell  silent,  and  the  room  was  still,  "  I  have 
been  asked  by  our  pastor  to  read  out  to  you  what  the 
newspapers  have  brought  this  afternoon.  Brother 
Haniman,"  he  turned  to  the  white-haired  minister 
who  stood  behind  him,  "  has  it  in  his  mind  that  we 
should  give  public  expression  of  our  feelings  on  this 
matter.  Friends,  I  hold  here  a  message  from  the 
President.  He  has  thrown  the  gauntlet  down,  and 
if  you,  the  people  of  the  North,  confirm  his  words, 
there  will  be  no  peace  until  the  South  is  crushed.  I 
will  read  you  what  he  says." 

He  stepped  forward  to  the  edge  of  the  platform, 
and  read  in  a  deep,  solemn  tone,  so  that  every  word 
was  heard  by  all,  the  proclamation  for  the  emancipa- 
tion of  the  slaves. 

"  That  on  the  first  day  of  January,  in  the  year 
of  our  Lord  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  sixty- 
three,  all  persons  held  as  slaves  within  every  State, 
or  part  of  a  State,  the  people  whereof  shall  be  in  re- 
bellion against  the  United  States,  shall  be  then, 
thenceforward,  and  forever,  free.  And  the  executive 
Government  of  the  United  States,  including  the  mili- 
10 


142  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

tary  and  civil  authorities  thereof,  will  recognise  and 
maintain  the  freedom  of  such  persons,  and  will  do 
no  act  or  acts  to  repress  such  persons,  or  any  of  them, 
in  any  effort  they  may  make  for  their  actual  free- 
dom.— Abraham  Lincoln." 

When  the  sonorous  voice  ceased,  there  was  a  deep 
silence.  The  paleness  of  Luke's  face  had  fallen  on 
his  listener's  as  it  was  falling  on  the  faces  of  hundreds 
of  thousands  throughout  the  Union  who  read  the 
news  this  day.  No  one  in  Wisconsin  failed  to  grasp 
the  full  significance  of  the  proclamation.  It  meant 
that  from  "  now,  thenceforward,  and  forever "  the 
North  would  fight  not  for  the  Union  alone,  but  for 
the  freedom  of  the  slaves.  Up  to  this  time,  both  at 
home  and  abroad,  a  thousand  different  opinions  were 
held  concerning  the  amount  of  interest  Northern  men 
really  felt  in  the  bondage  of  the  negro — the  eman- 
cipation of  whom  the  Southerners  believed  that 
Abraham  Lincoln  himself  desired  more  than  any- 
thing else.  There  were  the  Abolitionists,  of  course. 
But  even  when  the  war  broke  out  they  were  not  a 
tithe  of  the  population.  The  great  majority  in  the 
North  had  been  welded  together  to  fight  the  South 
through  their  devotion  to  the  flag.  Numbers  ap- 
proved of  slavery;  none,  except  the  Abolitionists, 
were  prepared  to  vote — much  less  to  fight — for  the 
freedom  of  the  negro.  When  Lincoln's  emancipa- 
tion proclamation  was  discussed  by  the  Cabinet, 
many  earnest  men  told  him  it  would  prove  a  fatal 
blow  to  the  Union.  It  meant  war  on  the  part  of  the 
South,  more  vindictive  and  stubborn  than  had  been 
yet,  for  Southerners  were  certain  to  believe  that  the 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  143 

proclamation  was  intended  to  provoke  an  insurrec- 
tion of  the  slaves.  What  a  terrible  blow,  argued 
the  peace-party,  would  this  be  to  the  North,  a  na- 
tion tired  of  Avar!  All  these  objections,  however, 
Lincoln  put  on  one  side,  and  against  opposition  that 
was  not  dreamed  of  by  the  public,  and  will,  perhaps, 
never  be  known,  he  sent  forth  his  message  to  the  peo- 
ple, played  his  great  trump  card,  then  waited  with  a 
quiet,  even  mind  to  hear  the  answer. 

The  silence  in  the  store  at  Chippewa  lasted  a  full 
minute;  and  then  a  man  stepped  forward  on  the 
platform,  David  Haniman,  the  minister,  and  all  the 
people  stared. 

"  Martha  Haniman's  husband  "  they  called  him, 
tolerating  him  in  his  ministerial  capacity  as  one 
"  gifted  with  learnin',"  looking  down  upon  him  from 
an  immeasurable  height  of  superiority  for  his  simplic- 
ity. He  had  never  led  the  smallest  of  their  boys  ex- 
cept by  the  persuasion  of  his  mildness  and  sweet  na- 
ture. Many  of  the  younger  men  thought  he  was 
"  not  all  there."  Now  they  did  not  know  him.  His 
bowed  head  was  thrown  back  royally,  his  feet  were 
firmly  planted,  his  eyes  ablaze. 

"  God  bless  the  President! "  he  cried,  his  voice 
ringing  through  the  hall  like  a  trumpet  note.  "  God 
bless  Abraham  Lincoln!  My  brothers  and  sisters, 
let  us  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord.  You,  who  have 
sons  in  Virginia;  you,  whose  fathers,  brothers,  hus- 
bands fight  under  Grant  in  Tennessee;  and  you,  who, 
like  myself,  have  been  denied  the  privilege  of  send- 
ing their  dearest  to  this  sacred  war — give  thanks  to 
God.     There  is  no  power  on  earth  can  defeat  our  sol- 


144  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

diers  now.  Up  to  this  time,  while  we  have  fought 
for  the  Union  only,  the  Southerners  have  had  a  cause 
many  have  thought  near  as  good  as  ours.  Now,  we 
fight  for  freedom,  they  for  slavery,  and  this  will 
bring  their  power  to  naught.  Brothers  and  sisters, 
in  this  hour  of  trial — for  the  flames  of  war  will  light 
the  sky  when  our  true  men  march  on — let  us,  I  be- 
seech you,  stand  by  the  President.  I  am  a  man  of 
peace,  but  it  is  my  duty  first  to  preach  the  Christian 
religion.  Slavery  is  antichristian.  Those  who  de- 
fend this  monstrous  thing  must  be  swept  down  with 
the  sword  until  they  see  the  evil  of  their  ways  or 
cumber  the  earth  no  more.  Support  this  proclama- 
tion— ask  Brother  Selby  to  send  a  telegraphic  message 
to  the  President,  to  tell  him  that  we,  citizens  of  Chip- 
pewa assembled,  hereby  accord  him  our  most  heart- 
felt thanks  for  his  great  words,  and  will  uphold  them 
and  all  that  they  may  bring  to  the  last  drop  of  our 
blood." 

He  paused,  and  sank  back  into  his  chair,  collaps- 
ing, now  that  it  was  over,  into  the  mild  pastor  that 
they  knew. 

But  his  words  received  a  response  no  one  else's 
would  have  done.  John  seconded  the  resolution,  and 
then  it  was  carried  by  acclamation  without  one  dis- 
sentient voice. 

The  war  cry  had  been  given  to  the  North  in  its 
hour  of  sorest  need.  Here  and  there  savage  protests 
might  be  heard,  while  in  the  South  it  was  received 
with  a  universal  shriek  of  denunciation.  But  Lin- 
coln was  right.  From  city,  and  town,  and  hamlet, 
especially  from  the  West,  came  a  mighty  cry  of  re- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  145 

lief  and  congratulation.  War?  Who  now  could 
dream  of  peace  until  the  serpent — slavery — which 
had  spread  the  venom  of  its  noisome  breath  so  many 
weary  years,  lay  crushed  and  lifeless,  ground  beneath 
the  heel  of  a  free  people  who  were  determined,  stern, 
united  in  one  bond  from  East  to  AYest,  unconquer- 
able as  fate. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

The  winter  of  18G3,  the  hardest  winter  the 
American  people  had  ever  known.  The  war  still 
raged,  and  though  the  defeat  of  Lee  at  Gettysburg  in 
the  preceding  July,  and  the  fall  of  Vicksburg,  which 
secured  the  free  passage  of  the  Mississippi  for  the  Free 
States,  had  given  the  Confederate  cause  a  check  that 
many  of  their  best  men  considered  irreparable,  they 
still  fought  on  stubbornly,  and  the  end  was  not  yet. 

The  cold  this  year  was  unusually  severe — an  ad- 
ditional hardship.  The  winter  began  early  and  last- 
ed long.  Mrs.  Selby  was  sinking  fast.  The  progress 
of  the  disease  had  been  extremely  slow,  thanks  to  the 
strength  of  her  constitution  and  the  unremitting 
care  of  her  daughter  and  her  friends.  But  when  the 
frosts  began  in  earnest  she  drooped  quickly,  and 
knew  she  would  not  live  to  see  another  New  Year's 
day.  Yet  she  was  happy  and  at  peace  in  spite  of  the 
pain  she  suffered.  She  no  longer  feared  for  the 
future  of  her  family.  Jean,  after  many  hard  strug- 
gles and  failures  and  discouragements  without  end, 
had  trained  herself  to  be  an  expert  housewife  and  a 
devoted  nurse.  She  had  not  stood  alone  in  her  trial; 
but  no  one,  except  Mrs.  Burletson  and  John,  knew 
the  constant  self-denial,  the  infinite  patience,  which 
146 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  147 

had  been  required  of  her  through  the  weary  months 
since  the  summer  of  1862.  At  times,  when  she  was 
very  tired,  and  the  children  very  troublesome,  Jean 
felt  that  the  weight  of  it  all  was  too  great  to  be 
borne,  and  she  would  cry  over  the  endless  sewing, 
and  rebel  against  the  fate  which  had  cast  such  re- 
sponsibility upon  her.  But  the  fortitude  with  which 
her  mother  bore  her  sufferings,  and  Mrs.  Burletson's 
cheery  greetings  the  next  day  when  she  came  loaded 
with  every  delicacy  that  'Eia's  cookery  and  the  re- 
sources of  the  farm  could  supply,  cheered  and 
strengthened  Jean  anew.  She  had  many  kind 
friends,  but  it  was  upon  Mrs.  Burletson  she  learned 
to  lean  in  these  da3'S.  She  dreaded  to  see  cold  and 
stormy  weather  when  the  old  lady  was  unable  to  ven- 
ture out,  for  her  visits  were  the  happiest  time  in  the 
hard  day.  John,  also,  was  a  welcome  guest.  All 
coolness  and  constraint  between  them  had  vanished 
long  ago,  and  the  old  friendship — with  a  difference — 
had  revived  in  all  its  strength.  His  refusal  to  volun- 
teer was  still  a  mystery  to  Jean,  but  she  was  content, 
now,  to  let  it  be.  His  work  among  the  poor  of  the 
district  was  well  known  to  her,  and  won  her  warmest 
admiration.  They  did  not,  however,  see  much  of 
one  another.  It  was  the  children  whom  John  came 
to  see.  These  poor  little  mortals,  in  spite  of  all  Jean's 
efforts,  had  a  melancholy  time  of  it,  for  they  were  old 
enough  to  understand  something  of  the  calamity 
that  was  coming  upon  them.  John  soon  became  the 
object  of  their  warmest  adoration;  and  all  their  holi- 
days were  spent  at  the  farm,  where  they  fed  chickens 
— and  hunted  them  when  no  one  was  looking — eat 


148  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

apples  without  stint,  played  hide-and-seek  in  the 
great  barns,  and  enjoyed  themselves  to  their  heart's 
content.  They  were  favourites  everywhere.  Even 
Mrs.  Haniman,  in  theory  the  sternest  of  disciplina- 
rians, had  a  soft  place  in  her  heart  for  "  Martha's  fam- 
ily," and  when  Maury,  the  youngest,  a  fascinating 
eight-year-old,  developed  chicken-pox,  Mrs.  Haniman 
carried  her  off  to  her  own  house  to  be  cured. 

Jean's  greatest  support  in  her  trials  were  Seth's 
letters.  He  had  been  one  of  the  fortunate  ones,  and 
while  comrades  around  him  sickened  and  died  he  es- 
caped without  a  scratch.  In  the  Shenandoah  Valley, 
at  Antietam,  at  Gettysburg  itself,  he  fought  with  his 
regiment,  and  came  gaily  through  it  all.  He  would 
complain  at  times  half  humorously  of  the  hardships 
of  campaigning,  but  always  said  he  was  well  in 
health,  and  hard  as  a  nail.  He  had  the  faculty  of  de- 
scription, and  a  rapid  pen,  and,  as  far  as  he  knew  it, 
Jean  received  a  comprehensive  account  of  the  progress 
of  the  war,  with  swift  and  trenchant  criticisms  of  the 
Union  generals.  Seth  spared  no  one.  In  strongest 
language  he  condemned  McClellan's  over-caution. 
Pope's  errors,  the  incapacity  of  Burnside,  and  the  van- 
ity of  Hooker.  Surely  never  in  the  annals  of  war  were 
the  commanders  of  an  army  subject  to  such  scathing 
criticism  by  their  men  as  in  the  American  struggle  of 
the  sixties.  The  later  letters,  or  such  portions  of 
them  as  related  to  the  war,  Jean  read  to  John  and  his 
mother,  which  led  to  John's  maps  finding  their  way  to 
the  store,  and  to  many  hours  of  talk  about  the  war. 
Jean  was  always  struck  by  the  wide  grasp  and  accurate 
knowledge  which  John  possessed  of  military  matters, 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  149 

and  liis  keen  interest  in  them.  She  wondered  more 
than  ever  why  he  had  not  gone  to  the  war,  and  brood- 
ed over  it,  until  one  afternoon,  when  Mrs.  Burletson 
was  in  the  sick-room,  and  she  was  alone  with  John, 
some  chance  word  of  his  revealed  the  truth. 

"  Tell  me  that  again,  John.  You  say  your  moth- 
er feels  so  lonesome  when  you  are  away — that  you 
find  it  makes  a  difference  to  her  health.  Is  that  real- 
ly so?" 

"  I  fear  it  is,"  he  replied,  surprised  at  her  eager 
tone.  "  I  am  all  she  has,  as  you  may  say.  She  kind 
of  clings  to  me." 

"  Then  I  know  at  last  why  you  never  went  to  the 
Avar,"  Jean  exclaimed.  "  It  would  have  killed  her 
to  part  with  you,  and  you  knew  it." 

Her  lips  trembled  as  she  spoke,  and  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  John  saw  that  he  could  not  evade  her 
now.     He  tried  to  laugh  it  off. 

"Cornered,  cornered!  as  the  boys  say.  Don't 
you  ever  tell  mother." 

"  Oh,  John,  can  you — but  you  never  can — for- 
give me  ?  " 

"  Pshaw!     There  is  nothing " 

"  But  there  is  everything.  I  have  slandered  you 
to  your  face,  and  to — to  others.  I  have  been  unjust, 
cruel — everything  that's  mean.  Oh,  why  did  you  not 
tell  me  at  first?  Why  did  you  deny  it  when  I  asked 
you  long  ago?  " 

She  was  crying  in  real  earnest  now,  tears  which 
burnt  her  cheeks. 

"  Jean,  Jean,  you  must  not  take  it  this  way,"  he 
cried,  laying  his  hand  on  hers  a  moment,  drawing  it 


150  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

away  the  next  and  thrusting  it  in  his  pocket,  "  the 
past  is  dead.  I  don't  feel  I  have  anything  to  forgive 
now.  If  I  was  hurt  once  it  was  my  own  fault.  I 
kept  it  all  to  myself  because  of  mother.  Had  she 
known  I  stayed  away  from  the  war  for  her  she  would 
not  have  had  any  peace  of  mind  again.  I  knew  if 
one  person  were  told,  even  you,  it  would  be  sure  to  get 
to  her.  I  think  now  I  was  a  fool.  But  that  does  not 
alter  facts.  Please  let  it  all  alone.  I  am  glad  enough 
to  think  you  understand  me  now.  Hush,  here's 
mother." 

As  Mrs.  Selby  grew  weaker  Jean  nursed  her  day 
and  night,  except  at  intervals  for  necessary  rest,  when 
Mrs.  Haniman,  at  her  own  request,  took  her  place. 
Jean  began  to  realize  now  in  the  fullest  degree  what 
a  responsibility  the  up-bringing  of  her  brothers  and 
sisters  was  going  to  be.  Her  father,  it  was  true,  was 
a  well-to-do  man;  lack  of  means  would  never  trouble 
them.  But  Jean  had  found  that  no  help  from  him 
was  to  be  expected  in  the  guidance  of  the  children. 
He  was  not  unkind  to  them,  simply  indifferent. 
Soul,  body,  and  mind,  he  was- given  to  money-making, 
and  to  maintaining  his  public  position  among  his 
neighbours.  He  was  a  zealous,  energetic  guardian  of 
public  trusts;  in  business  he  was  hard,  over-reaching, 
and  industrious;  in  his  home,  a  blank  and  a  nonen- 
tity. Their  mother  had  been  all  in  all  to  the  younger 
children.  At  her  death  Jean  saw  that  she  must  take 
her  place. 

Mrs.  Selby  died  the  last  day  of  January,  linger- 
ing on  a  month  longer  than  any  one  expected.  Jean 
kept  her  self-control  to  the  last;  made  every  arrange- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  151 

ment,  and  saw  to  every  detail  of  the  household  and  its 
wants.  But  when  it  was  over  and  she  went  into  the 
still  room  and  gazed  upon  the  face  that  never  more 
would  answer  by  a  look  or  smile  to  any  words  of  hers, 
when  that  bitter  blow  was  dealt  which  only  conies  at 
such  a  time  in  all  its  fulness,  the  realization  of  her 
loss  came  home  to  her,  and  she  broke  down.  Mrs. 
Haniman  was  there,  and  though  an  important  com- 
mittee meeting  claimed  her  attention  in  half  an  hour, 
she  did  not  leave  the  store  until  late  in  the  evening, 
putting  the  children  to  bed  and  sitting  with  Jean 
until  the  girl  went  to  sleep,  tired  out  with  grief. 

The  day  of  the  funeral  was  bleak  and  wintry,  and 
a  northwesterly  wind  sweeping  in  angry  blasts  over 
the  bare  places  and  whining  round  house  corners  with 
an  ominous  moan.  The  afternoon  of  the  next  day, 
John,  finishing  his  work  early,  hitched  up  his  team  to 
drive  into  town  for  the  weekly  supplies. 

"  You  will  be  caught  in  a  storm,  son,"  his  mother 
said,  handing  him  his  gloves. 

"  Like  enough,"  he  replied,  smiling;  "  but  if  I 
lose  my  way  the  ponies  will  not.  No  danger, 
mother." 

The  snow  began  to  fall  before  he  reached  the  last 
of  his  fences.  By  the  time  he  reached  the  open  road 
it  was  coming  down  so  fast  that  he  found  it  hard  to 
see  the  track.  He  was  going  at  a  brisk  pace,  when 
one  of  the  horses  shied  at  a  figure  in  the  road — a 
woman's  figure  hurrying  by  without  shawl  or  other 
protection  from  the  storm — Jean. 

In  a  moment  John's  team  were  on  their  haunches, 
and  he  had  leapt  to  the  ground. 


152  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  What  has  happened?  " 

There  was  a  dazed  look  in  Jean's  eyes  as  she  turned 
that  frightened  him. 

"  I  was  going  to  your  mother,"  she  said,  in  a  voice 
that  sounded  liollow  and  uunaturah  "  Don't  stop 
for  me.  I  know  my  way,  and  the  storm  cools  my 
brain." 

"  You  have  not  told  me  what  is  the  matter." 

"  I  have  had  news  from  Seth — horrible  news. 
But  go  on  to  town.  I  don't  feel  like  talking  now.  I 
will  tell  you  when  you  get  back." 

She  would  have  passed  on  now,  but  he  took  her 
hand  and  held  it. 

"  Get  in.     We'll  be  there  in  five  minutes." 

"  Oh,  no.     Let  me  walk." 

"  Get  in." 

The  words  came  sternly,  and  Jean  obeyed. 

John  did  not  speak  again.  All  the  rugs  and  his 
own  heavy  overcoat  he  wrapped  closely  round  Jean, 
then  turned  his  team  and  put  them  at  the  gallop. 
His  blood  was  on  fire,  and  the  horses  knew  it  and 
tore  home  at  furious  speed. '  In  a  slight  hollow  of 
-the  road  Jean  was  jolted  against  him,  and  his  heart 
leapt  up  in  fierce  joy.  In  her  direst  extremity  she 
had  come  to  him  and  his  for  comfort  and  for  help. 
All  the  love  that  he  had  crushed  down  into  the  hidden 
chambers  of  his  heart,  so  firmly  that  he  scarcely  knew 
himself  at  times  whether  it  still  existed,  burst  its 
bonds  now  and  poured  through  his  veins  like  new 
blood.  How  precious  they  were,  those  minutes,  as 
she  sat  cowering  against  him — worth  a  lifetime  of  un- 
happiness.     Then  came  the  lights  of  the  farm,  and 


I 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  I53 

he  had  to  help  her  down  and  leave  her  with  his  moth- 
er. Presently  he  would  see  her  again,  and  hear  what 
had  happened  to  Seth — poor  lad!  Now,  for  some 
hard  work.  He  took  the  horses  to  the  stable  and 
rubbed  them  down  until  they  shone  like  burnished 
copper;  then  he  went  to  the  wood-pile  behind  the 
house,  and  picking  out  the  toughest  log  there,  hewed 
and  split  it  into  firewood;  then  he  looked  at  his 
watch.  He  had  kept  away  for  a  whole  hour;  that 
was  enough. 

Mrs.  Burletson  was  sitting  before  the  fire  talking. 
Jean  on  a  stool  at  her  feet  listening  with  woe-begone 
face,  colourless,  hopeless.  John  thought  she  looked 
the  picture  of  despair. 

"  Sonny,"  his  mother  cried  as  he  came  slowly  to- 
ward them,  inclined  to  feel  himself  in  the  way,  "  we 
are  needing  you.  I  have  a  matter  to  discuss  in  which 
we  want  your  mind." 

Sbe  spoke  with  energy  and  some  excitement,  at 
which  John  wondered  vaguely.  He  came  to  the  fire 
as  he  was  told,  and  stood  leaning  on  the  mantelpiece, 
looking  down  into  Jean's  face. 

"  I  want  your  counsel,  John.  I  told  Jean,  and 
she  knows  it  to  be  true,  that  no  one  is  so  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  movement  of  the  armies  and  with 
the  lay  of  the  country  in  the  South  as  you.  Seth  has 
been  take  prisoner.  That  is  the  news  Jean  brings. 
Luckily  enough  he  was  able  to  send  word  by  a  note, 
passed  through  by  an  officer  who  was  exchanged. 
The  boy  is  not  wounded,  and  as  far  as  we  can  learn  is 
well  in  health;  but  Jean  is  distracted  nigh  to  despera- 
tion by  what  the  papers  tell  of  men  in  Southern  pris- 


154  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

ons.  I  say  that  the  papers  lie;  but  my  words  do  not 
convince  her — jjoor  child." 

"  You  are  good  to  try  and  comfort  me/'  Jean 
broke  in  drearily.  "  I  know  what  is  true  and  what  is 
not;  but  I  interrupted  you." 

"  Well,  Seth,"  Mrs.  Burletson  continued,  "  is  in 
prison,  a  place  called  Santanelle,  in  Georgia.  ISTow, 
as  soon  as  I  heard  this,  I  said  to  Jean  '  Hope,'  and  I 
say  so  again.  You  shall  tell  me,  John,  whether  my 
ideas  are  moonshine.  Did  you  not  say  once  that 
there  was  talk  of  an  army  under  General  Sherman 
going  right  through  Georgia?  " 

"  That  is  so,  and  I  heard  more  to-day.  The  ad- 
vance is  to  be  made  in  the  spring.  Tliey  are  begin- 
ning preparations  now." 

Mrs.  Burletson  patted  Jean's  hand. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  he  would  know?  Here  is  my 
plan,  then.  If  Seth  is  in  prison  in  Georgia,  and 
Sherman  marches  through  that  State,  is  it  not  pos- 
sible that  Seth  might  be  rescued  ?  " 

John  looked  doubtful. 

"  Georgia  is  a  tremendous  big  country,  mother, 
and  Sherman's  business  will  be  to  get  through  the 
best  way  he  can.  There  will  be  no  time  for  him  to 
welter  round  picking  up  prisoners  unless  they  are 
directly  in  the  line  of  march,  and  Santanelle  is  in 
northern  Georgia.     But  go  on — let  me  hear  all." 

"  It  was  my  idea  that  if  in  Sherman's  army  there 
were  folk,  or  say  one  man,  interested  in  Seth,  it  might 
be  that  a  party  could  go  forth  and  bring  Seth  out. 
Of  course,  it  goes  without  saying,  that  it  all  depends 
on  the  man."     Mrs.  Burletson  sat  very  erect,  and 


I 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  155 

looked  at  John  with  searching  eyes.  "  But  I  have 
known  men  who  could  do  it.  You  may  ask  me  to 
find  them.  I  will  answer  that  question  later.  First 
you  must  tell  me  whether,  given  such  men,  the  notion 
has  sense  in  it.     I  want  to  know  your  idea,  son." 

But  John  had  turned  away. 

"  Your  words,  mother,"  he  said  at  last,  "  have 
point  in  them.  There  will  be  difficulties  at  every 
turn — more  than  we  can  see — but  there  might  be  a 
chance,  aye,  more  than  a  chance,  of  success.  And  it 
is  the  only  way.  So  much  is  certain.  Exchange  of 
prisoners  now,  they  say,  is  not  to  be  done.  What  does 
Jean  say?  " 

"  It  seems  impossible  to  me,"  she  answered,  in 
the  same  hopeless  tone  she  had  used  before.  "  If  it 
could  be  done,  and  I  don't  see  that,  where  is  the  man 
to  be  found  who  would  try?  Oh,  why  do  we  talk 
about  what  can  never  be?  Excuse  me,  I  am  abrupt 
and  rude.  If  only  I  were  a  man,  or  free  to  go  as  I 
am.  But  I  am  held  in,  having  the  children  to  think 
of,  and  my  helplessness  maddens  me.  I  think  I  will 
go  home." 

She  rose  and  kissed  Mrs.  Burletson,  but  the  old 
lady  detained  her  with  one  hand,  and,  rising  too, 
laid  the  other  on  John's  shoulder. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  it  is  time  for  you  to  speak. 
I  know  by  your  face  that  what  has  been  working  in 
my  mind  is  now  in  yours.  She  must  not  go  in  igno- 
rance.    Speak,  and  tell  Jean  where  to  find  this  man." 

A  pause — while  Jean,  startled,  bewildered,  looked 
John  in  the  face  with  questioning  eyes.  Then  he 
spoke  at  last. 


156  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  Mother  has  told  you  my  thouglits  as  well  as  her 
own.     This  thing  shall  be  done  if  1  can  do  it." 

"  You! " 

"  Yes,  Jean,  me."  His  voice  was  low  and 
strained,  but  full  of  determination.  "  I  would  not 
offer  if  there  were  any  other  way,  or  another  man.  I 
did  not  go  to  the  war  because  I  would  not  leave  my 
mother — she  may  know  that  now." 

"  I  guessed  it,  son,  from  the  first,"  Mrs.  Burlet- 
son  cried,  "  and  have  known  it  long." 

"  I  did  not  go,"  he  repeated,  "  because  it  would 
have  killed  her  to  live  alone.  Now  it  is  different,  she 
will  have  you.  Besides,  I  don't  volunteer  to  stay  out 
the  war,  but  go  to  find  Seth  and  then  come  back. 
Mind,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  do  much  or  anything. 
But  all  that  is  in  me  you  may  count  upon.  And  if 
you  will  take  my  services,  I  will  seek  the  boy  and 
bring  him  home,  please  God,  sound  as  he  went  away." 

And  Jean.  She  tried  to  speak,  then  dumbly  held 
out  a  hand  to  each,  and  breaking  down  utterly,  fell 
upon  Mrs.  Burletson's  neck,  and  burst  into  a  passion 
of  tears. 


CHAPTEE   XIV. 

John  and  his  mother  went  late  to  rest  that  night; 
but  Jean  was  taken  home  early,  as  she  had  her  family 
to  put  to  bed.  It  was  a  very  short  drive  to  John. 
His  nerves  were  still  thrilled  with  excitement,  though 
it  was  purified  by  a  determination  to  procure  Seth's 
freedom  at  any  cost;  but  it  was  there,  and  he  felt 
keen  enjoyment  in  her  mere  presence.  He  did  not 
want  to  talk,  it  was  enough  to  feel  that  they  were 
together.  In  the  evening,  after  consideration  of 
practical  ways  and  means,  he  began  to  be  smitten  with 
remorseful  pangs  about  his  mother.  He  left  his 
table,  drew  a  stool  to  her  feet,  and  leant  his  head 
against  her  knee. 

"  Mother,  I  did  not  know  I  could  be  so  selfish." 

"Why  selfish,  son?" 

"  Because  I  am  content  to  leave  you." 

"  Thank  God,"  she  said,  devoutly. 

John  looked  up. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that?  I  ought  not  to  be.  We 
have  been  all  in  all  to  one  another." 

She  stroked  his  forehead. 

"  I  am  your  mother,  dear,  no  more.  You  gave 
me  three  years  of  your  manhood's  prime.  God  for- 
give me  for  taking  it;  but  you  did  this  because  of 
11  157 


158  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

your  love  for  me.  That  three  years  is  over.  I  am 
as  happy  to-night  as  you  are — happier  than  I  have 
ever  been  since  Luke  read  out  the  Proclamation. 
Something  you  said  after  that  gave  me  full  knowledge 
of  why  you  had  stood  aside  from  the  war.  You 
should  not  have  done  it  for  me,  John,  you  should 
not!  " 

For  answer  he  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it,  and 
they  were  silent  for  a  long  time. 

Mrs.  Burletson  broke  the  pause. 

"  Anyway,  whatever  betides  down  South,  whether 
you  are  doing  your  duty  under  General  Sherman, 
John,  or  seeking  Seth,  you  will  know  now  that  I  can 
never  be  miserable  or  lonesome.  Jean  will  be  with 
me  a  great  deal,  and  I  have  the  joy  of  feeling  that  you 
are  on  the  path  I  set  before  you  wdth  my  own  hand. 
I  cannot  want  more.  All  I  shall  worry  about  will  be 
if  the  men  you  leave  in  charge  of  the  farm  and  the 
stock  don't  do  their  duty;  but  I  know  you  will  ar- 
range those  things." 

"  That  does  not  trouble  me  in  the  least,"  he  an- 
swered. "  Jim  Hallett  will  be  your  manager.  With 
your  head  and  his,  and  one  more  labourer,  the  farm 
will  go  right  well." 

"  Then  tell  me  now  about  your  plans.  I  was 
thinking  of  them  while  you  drove  Jean  home,  and 
the  more  I  thought  the  more  difficult  it  all  seemed." 

"  It  is  difficult.  The  army  for  Georgia  is  to  be 
composed  of  picked  men.  A  raw  recruit  will  not  be 
wanted  here.  Besides,  as  a  private  in  the  ranks  I 
would  be  tied  to  my  regiment — to  my  company — 
and  could  not  move  except  where  my  bit  of  the  army 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  I59 

happened  to  march.  We  will  have  to  think  out  an 
idea,  quite  a  different  idea  from  volunteering." 

"  That  is  so.  I  see  by  your  face,  though,  that 
you  have  already  thought  of  a  way.     Let  me  hear  it." 

John  laughed  tenderly. 

"What,  do  you  not  see?  Yes,  I  have  a  sort  of 
notion.  The  contract  is  such  a  big  one  when  you 
come  to  work  it  out,  that  I  must  fly  high  to  start 
with.  I  intend  going  to  Washington  with  all  the 
introductions  I  can  get,  my  hope  being  that  among 
them  I  may  find  one  that  will  take  me  to  the  White 
House." 

"  The  President,  John?  " 

"  Abraham  Lincoln  himself." 

"  I  like  that  idea.     But  what  could  he  do?  " 

"  Almost  all  I  need,  if  he  should  feel  like  it.  I 
was  reading  the  other  day  in  that  reb  paper  I  get 
sometimes.  The  Richmond  Examiner,  a  rather  smart 
argument  for  the  right  of  secession,  which  they  took, 
they  said,  from  certain  clauses  in  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States.  I  went  straight  to  Attorney 
Thorpe's  office  and  read  the  constitution,  end  to  end. 
Among  other  things,  which  I  never  knew  before,  I 
found  that  the  President  is  commander-in-chief  of 
the  army.  It  strikes  me,  therefore,  that  it  is  worth 
v/hile  to  try  for  a  word  from  him  to  General  Sherman. 
Whether  I  will  ever  get  to  him,  and  what  he'll  say  if 
I  do,  remains  to  be  seen;  but  I  mean  to  try.  If  this 
fails,  why  I  will  go  to  Georgia  and  interview  the  Gen- 
eral on  my  own  accoimt." 

John  made  his  preparations  very  quietly,  and  by 
his  request  no  one  was  told  of  his  plans  until  the  last 


160  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL. 

moment,  in  consequence  of  which  he  eseaijed  innu- 
merable questions  and  much  good  advice.  He  saw 
Jean  alone  once  before  he  went  away.  He  had  made 
up  his  mind  not  to  do  so,  but  his  resolution  failed 
him  at  the  last,  and  he  called  in  for  a  few  minutes 
on  his  way  to  the  railway  dej^ot.  His  visit  was  quite 
unexpected.  Luke  was  in  the  store,  and  Jean  was 
giving  Sam,  the  eldest  of  the  boys,  a  reading  lesson. 
Sam,  however,  discreet  beyond  his  years,  not  only  re- 
tired with  his  book  at  John's  entrance,  but  mounted 
guard  in  the  hall  to  prevent  interruption. 

It  was  not  a  sentimental  interview  at  all.  Jean's 
greeting  was  a  merry  laugh,  for  it  happened  that  At- 
torney Thorpe,  a  well-meaning  but  fussy  and  particu- 
lar person,  had  begged  her  that  morning  to  hint  to 
John  the  paramount  importance  of  good  clothes  in 
Washington,  and  that  the  blue  jean  he  affected  in 
Chippewa  must  not  be  thought  of — and  here  was 
John  dressed  in  this  same  blue  jean.  John  was  given 
the  attorney's  message  at  once,  and  laughed  too. 

"  Tell  my  dear  old  friend,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have 
seriously  thought  the  question  out,  and  I  reckon  the 
best  thing  a  man  can  do  when  he  goes  into  the  world 
is  to  look  what  he  really  is  as  near  as  he  can.  I  am  a 
Wisconsin  farmer,  and  I  wear  the  clothes  I  am  used 
to,  and  that  are  used  to  me.  If  I  were  to  put  on  the 
uniform  of  a  brigadier-general  I  could  not  be  more 
than  a  farmer,  and  certainly  less  of  a  man.  But, 
Jean,  I  just  came  in  to  say  good-bye,  and  ask  whether 
you  had  any  further  message  for  Seth;  I  have  the 
packet  safe  that  you  gave  mother  for  him." 

"  It  contains  all,  thank  you;  but  I  have  much 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  161 

to  say  to  you,  John,  if  I  could  only  put  it  into 
words.'"' 

"  Don't  try,"  John  cried,  with  a  grimace;  "  that 
would  be  too  bad,  for  I  cannot  talk,  and  I  hate  that 
folk  should  do  what  is  not  in  me.  Good-bye;  I  will 
do  my  best;  and  be  sure  that  he  and  you  are  worth 
it  all." 

Their  hands  met  with  a  long,  close  pressure,  and 
they  looked  into  one  another's  eyes.  Then  he  was 
gone.  In  the  passage  he  ran  against  Sam,  and  caught 
the  boy  in  his  arms. 

"  Sam,  lad,  can  you  make  a  promise  and  keep  it?  " 

"  'Course  I  can,  for  you." 

"  Then  swear  to  this;  be  a  man,  though  you 
are  only  twelve  years  old;  never  give  Jean  one  hour 
of  trouble  till  I  come  home  again,  and  if  any  one 
else  does,  go  for  him  straight." 

"What  a  thing  to  ask!"  was  the  shrill  answer; 
and  Sam  struggled  back  to  his  feet  swelling  with 
manly  scorn.  "  Ain't  she  Jean?  'Sides,  Mr.  John,  I 
am  thirteen  come  two  weeks  to-day,  not  twelve  at  all." 

Nevertheless,  Sam  went  back  to  the  parlour  a 
graver  boy  than  he  had  left  it,  and  when  he  saw  that 
Jean  looked  tired  and  heavy-eyed,  declared  he  had  a 
headache  and  would  go  to  bed  right  now. 

John  reached  Washington  early  in  March.  It 
was  still  bitterly  cold,  but  the  snow  had  melted  in  the 
principal  thoroughfares,  and  the  queer  straggling 
city  of  "  hovels  and  palaces  "  was  drearier  and  mud- 
dier than  usual.  Washington  in  those  days  was  a 
city  of  large  public  buildings,  immensely  wide,  badly- 
paved  streets,  lined  with  wooden  shanties,  stone  man- 


162  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

sions,  and  shops  of  brick  and  stucco — the  queerest 
medley  of  contrasts  of  any  city  in  the  States.  It  was 
full  of  people,  and  for  the  whole  of  his  first  day  there, 
John  amused  himself  by  exploring  it,  and  entering 
into  conversation  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men.  There  was  method  in  his  inquiries,  however, 
for  they  all  ended  with  queries  concerning  the 
personal  idiosyncrasies  of  the  President.  He  heard 
a  great  deal  of  nonsense  and  many  palpable  lies, 
but  picked  up  certain  important  facts;  that  which 
struck  him  the  most  being  the  information  that  any 
man  who  had  business  with  Abraham  Lincoln  might 
go  to  the  White  House  at  a  certain  hour  of  the  day 
and  see  him.  He  would  do  this,  he  thought,  if  all 
else  failed.  The  next  day  he  presented  his  introduc- 
tions, and  his  tribulations  began.  The  great  men 
were  "  busy,"  and  days  passed  before  he  could  get  an 
audience  with  them.  When  he  did  so  at  last,  by  sheer 
perseverance,  he  was  told  that  the  discovery  of  Ameri- 
ca by  Columbus  was  easy  compared  to  what  he  had 
set  himself  to  do. 

"  Go  home,  my  good  friend,"  said  one,  the  great- 
est man  of  all,  who  did  what  the  rest  only  pretended 
to  do — listened  to  what  John  had  to  say.  "  Go  right 
back,  and  tell  the  poor  lad's  folk  that  there  is  noth- 
ing to  be  done  until  the  Confederacy  breaks  up.  Do 
you  suppose  the  President  can  see  to  such  a  little 
thing?  You  can  interview  him,  certainly — eleven 
in  the  morning  is  the  best  time,  I  am  told.  But  I 
put  it  to  you — among  the  prisoners  held  by  the 
rebels  is  one  private  soldier  of  any  real  account, 
except  to  those   who   know   him?      The   President 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  163 

will  shake  hands,  hear  your  tale,  tell  5^011,  maybe, 
a  little  story  to  show  you  how  hopeless  it  is,  and  that 
will  be  all.  I  am  very  sorry.  Glad  to  have  seen  you. 
Now,  good-bye." 

What  was  to  be  done  next?  John,  a  pessimist 
by  temperament,  felt  that  these  remarks  contained 
the  soundest  of  common  sense.  But — and  here  he 
would  drop  his  head  between  his  shoulders  as  ob- 
stinate men  have  a  trick  of  doing — a  way  had  to  be 
found.  He  must  try  the  President;  and  eleven 
o'clock  the  next  morning  found  him  at  the  White 
House.  It  also  found  a  few  hundred  others  there. 
John  went  with  the  rest  into  a  long  corridor  and 
waited.  When  the  President  came  in,  John  modestly 
shrank  into  a  corner  and  watched  his  face  from  a  dis- 
tance, as  he  spoke  to  this  person  and  that,  a  word  or 
two  to  each.  He  did  not  come  near  John,  whose 
bashfulness  was  too  great  to  permit  him  to  push  for- 
ward; besides,  of  what  use  would  a  word  in  a  crowd 
be  to  him?  But  though  John  went  away  no  wiser 
than  he  came,  he  was  glad  he  had  been  to  the  White 
House.  As  he  walked  back  to  his  hotel  he  could  see 
the  President  still,  towering  from  his  great  height 
above  all  common  men,  with  long,  cadaverous  face 
and  deepset  sunken  eyes.  Weary,  melancholy  eyes — 
the  eyes  of  a  man  who  was  never  free  from  care;  upon 
whose  shoulders  lay  the  burden  of  a  nation  in  its 
agony;  who  felt  its  griefs  and  miseries  and  dangers, 
as  if  they  were  his  own.  A  man  who  never  left  him- 
self in  peace  even  during  his  rare  intervals  of  rest, 
but  was  for  ever,  night  and  day,  planning,  thinking, 
deciding  for  others;  holding  in  his  strong  hands  the 


164  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

welfare  of  millions  and  knowing  it;  yet  never  losing 
nerve  or  heart.  Learning  from  those  about  him  all 
they  had  to  teach,  listening  to  everything  they  had  to 
say;  and  then  drawing  into  himself,  and,  after  silent 
commune  with  his  own  judgment  and  conscience, 
controlling  and  dictating  all  that  was  done.  Such 
was  Abraham  Lincoln. 

All  afternoon  John  wandered  aimlessly  about  the 
streets  trying  to  find  a  way  where  there  was  no  way, 
losing  heart  and  hope  every  hour.  He  made  inquiry 
at  the  railway  offices,  and  found  that  the  wealth  of  a 
millionaire  would  not  enable  him  to  approach  the 
army  in  Georgia  without  a  permit  from  the  war  office. 
He  went  there,  saw  a  minor  official,  and  was  told 
with  unnecessary  abruptness  that  his  application  was 
absurd,  and  that  he  might  as  well  try  and  reach  the 
moon  as  General  Sherman.  At  length,  tired  out,  he 
returned  to  his  hotel  and  ate  a  frugal  supper.  When 
he  had  finished,  a  restlessness  greater  than  his  weari- 
ness sent  him  forth  again  into  the  city.  He  wan- 
dered now,  half  mechanically,  in  the  direction  of  the 
White  House,  As  he  was  passing  the  gates,  the  sight 
of  a  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  road  brought  him 
to  a  sudden  stop.  It  was  the  President,  strolling 
down  the  street  with  long,  low  strides,  his  head  bent, 
his  hands  behind  his  back.  John's  heart  leapt  into 
his  mouth,  and  before  he  had  made  up  his  mind  what 
he  was  going  to  say,  he  crossed  the  road  and  con- 
fronted Abraham  Lincoln.  Then  his  breath  forsook 
him,  and  all  he  had  presence  of  mind  to  do  was  to 
raise  his  hat.     The  President  raised  his. 

"  Do  you  want  something  of  me,  friend  ?  " 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  165 

How  many  scores  of  men  every  day  of  Lincoln's 
life  "  wanted  something  "  of  him!  Yet  his  tone  was 
so  kindly,  so  scrupulously  polite,  that  John's  diffidence 
broke  down. 

"  I  had  a  question  to  ask,  Mr.  President,"  he  said, 
gaining  courage  every  moment.  "  You  will  be  too 
busy,  likely,  to  listen  now.  I  should  be  very  thankful 
if  you  would  tell  me  when  it  would  be  convenient  for 
me  to  see  you — alone." 

"  You  have  your  chance  this  minute — take  it.  I 
am  walking  to  the  war  office — ask  me  your  question 
on  the  way." 

They  turned  and  walked  together,  John  taking 
two  steps  to  Lincoln's  one. 

"  It  concerns  a  friend  of  mine  in  Santanelle  pris- 
on, northern  Georgia,  sir."  John  was  cool  now,  and 
clipped  his  words  to  the  briefest  point;  time  was  all- 
important.  The  President  muttered  something  to 
himself,  and  shuddered  slightly. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  as  John  paused.  "  Those  boys 
in  prison  are  our  worst  troubles.  But  let  me  hear 
it  all." 

"  I  intend  to  get  him  out,"  John  continued.  "  I 
have  a  little  money,  but  prisoners,  as  I  understand, 
cannot  be  exchanged." 

"  So.     Well " 

"  The  only  idea  I  have  left  is  to  go  to  Georgia 
with  General  Sherman,  and  when  the  army  reaches 
the  point  nearest  to  Santanelle,  get  leave  to  try  and 
save  my  friend.  I  know  enough,  sir,"  John  added 
hurriedly,  fearing  that  he  would  be  stopped  by  a  di- 
rect negative,  "to  tell  that  the  general  would  not 


166  THE   GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

take  me  on  such  terms  as  a  volunteer.  Would  he — 
could  it  be  at  all — that  I  might  join  the  army  in  any 
other  way  than  a  soldier?  I  wish  to  ask  you  this. 
I  have  money  to  pay  my  expenses.  All  I  need  is  to 
get  to  the  prison  some  way.  I  have  promised  to  find 
this  man,  and  I  must  do  it.     Could  you  help  me?  " 

The  murder  was  out,  and  John  waited  for  an  an- 
swer, white  and  grim.  He  felt  no  hope  of  success. 
A  few  words  of  decisive  discouragement  would  be 
given  and  it  would  be  over.  For  a  few  minutes  the 
President  answered  nothing,  walking  slowly  on  down 
Pennsylvania  Avenue,  past  the  war  office,  in  a  deep 
reverie.  Presently  he  looked  down  at  his  companion 
sideways. 

"  You  call  this  man  your  friend.  Is  he  no  more 
than  that?" 

"  No,  sir.  But  he  is  engaged  to  be  married  to 
the  oldest  friend  I  have.  I  have  promised  to  bring 
him  back  to  her." 

"  Ah!  " 

Another  pause,  then  Lincoln  said — 

"Have  you  quite  thought  this  thing  out,  friend? 
Sherman  has  no  use  for  any  man  who  will  not  fight. 
You  will  be  obliged  anyhow  to  take  chances  with 
death  all  the  way  along.  Supposing  you  got  the  man 
outside  and  died  yourself?  It  strikes  me  you  are  a 
little  away  in  the  clouds  at  present." 

John  looked  surprised.  It  was  the  first  time  any 
one  had  accused  him  of  building  castles  in  the  air. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  he  said  bluntly.  "  I  know 
most  things  are  against  me,  but,  you  see,  there  is  no 
one  else.     As  for  fighting,  I  will  take  that  as  it  comes. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  167 

and  Sherman  may  make  what  use  of  me  he  likes — if 
he  will  let  me  go  along  with  him.  I  am  bound  to  go 
some  way." 

The  President,  who  was  watching  him  keenly, 
nodded  without  speaking,  and  tvirning  abruptly, 
walked  back  at  a  brisk  pace  to  the  war  office.  Under 
the  lights  at  the  door,  as  the  sentry  duly  saluted,  he 
took  a  card  from  his  pocket,  and  writing  on  it  in  pen- 
cil, gave  it  to  John. 

"  Bring  this  with  you  at  three  to-morrow.  I  can 
give  you  half  an  hour.  We  will  talk  about  this  thing, 
and — see.  No  " — as  John  tried  to  thank  him — "  you 
have  no  occasion.  Men  with  just  such  ideas  as  yours 
do  not  often  come  my  way.  Besides,  friend,"  with  one 
of  his  rare  smiles,  "  if  it  were  a  sacrifice  to  me  to 
grant  this  interview,  where  you  lay  down  your  life, 
I  may  give  a  little  time,  I  guess,  and  be  a  better  man 
for  doing  so.     Good  night." 

He  strode  up  the  steps,  the  doors  closed  behind 
him,  leaving  John  on  the  pavement  alone,  the  pre- 
cious card  in  his  hand.  He  stood  a  moment  looking 
at  it,  then  slowly  collecting  his  wits,  turned  back,  and 
went  to  bed  to  dream  of  the  coming  interview  all 
night  long. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

When  John  presented  the  President's  card  at  the 
White  House,  he  was  shown  into  a  room  where  Lin- 
coln was  dictating  letters  to  his  secretary.  The  Presi- 
dent extended  his  hand  over  the  table  and  pointed  to 
a  chair,  but  did  not  pause  in  what  he  was  saying,  until 
the  letter  was  finished.  Then  the  secretary  departed, 
and  Lincoln  poked  the  fire. 

"  The  worst  enemy  of  long  men  like  me,"  he  said, 
"  is  bad  circulation  when  we  grow  old.  I  can't  keep 
warm  these  days.  You  don't  look  as  if  you  suffered, 
that  way,  or  any  other — tough,  aren't  you?" 

"  I  was  only  sick  once,  and  that  was  measles." 

"  Can  you  ride?  " 

The  suddenness  of  this  question  amused  John. 

"  Hard  telling,  sir.  I  break  my  own  colts,  and 
around  where  I  live  they  think  me  a  rider.  I  did, 
too,  until  I  tried  one  of  the  Western  bucking  horses." 

"  How  long  did  you  remain?  "  said  the  President 
gravely. 

"  Five  minutes." 

"  Then  you  can  ride.     Did  you  never  volunteer?  " 

John  looked  confused,  and  Lincoln  raised  his 
hand. 

"  Do  not  answer  if  the  question  hurts.     I  would 
168 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  169 

never  ask  a  man  to  say  a  word  if  he  don't  feel 
like  it." 

But  as  it  happened  John  did  feel  like  it.  There 
are  some  men,  though  not  many,  who  attract  the  con- 
fidence of  the  most  reserved  and  reticent.  Lincoln 
was  pre-eminently  such  a  man.  His  simplicity  and 
directness,  the  kindly  consideration  of  his  manner, 
and  a  subtle  magnetic  sympathy  about  him  charmed 
and  conquered  John.  Before  he  knew  it,  he  was  tell- 
ing the  President  of  the  United  States  how  he  had 
longed  to  go  to  the  war,  and  why  he  had  stayed  at 
home.  Then,  led  on  by  shrewd  and  searching  ques- 
tions, he  went  further  still,  until  Lincoln  knew,  as  we 
know  it,  the  story  of  his  life.  All  at  once  he  remem- 
bered the  time,  and  found  to  his  horror  that  the 
precious  half-hour  he  had  been  allowed  was  almost 
gone. 

Lincoln  caught  the  expression  of  his  visitor's  face 
as  he  looked  at  the  clock.  His  eyes  twinkled,  though 
his  mouth  was  grave. 

"  Don't  be  scared;  we  have  five  minutes  yet.  I 
said  last  night  that  men  of  your  ideas  do  not  often 
come  to  this  house.  I  could  say  more  now  that  I 
know  you.  I  should  like  to  see  your  mother;  I  have 
an  idea  she  would  remind  me  of  my  own — God  bless 
her!  You  see,  I  was  born  in  the  country,  and  bred 
among  farm-folk  as  you  have  been,  and  your  speech 
and  dress,  John,  bring  back  old  times.  I  would  like 
to  help  you,  though  I  see  no  way  yet.  Did  you  ever 
hear  the  story  of  the  farming  man  who  came  from 
Illinois?  He  wanted  fifty  dollars  to  buy  a  horse,  but 
he  had  no  money,  and  no  one  would  lend  him  any; 


a  i 


a  ( 


lYO  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

and  all  the  property  he  possessed  was  twenty-five  hogs. 
Folks  said  this  would  beat  him,  but  they  were  wrong, 
for  he  started  right  away  to  drive  the  hogs  to  Chi- 
cago to  sell.     Ever  driven  hogs?     I  have.     Well — it 
took  that  farmer  about  six  days  to  get  twenty  miles, 
and  his  hogs  ran  away  thirty-five  times;  he   went 
without  sleep  all  the  while,  and  had  very  little  to  eat. 
But  he  got  to  Chicago,  and  offered  them  to  a  packer. 
How  much?'  says  the  packer. 
Fifty  dollars.' 
Then  you  won't  get  it.' 
I  will,'  said  the  farmer. 

"  The  packer  laughed. 

"'The  best  in  the  market  only  fetch  $1.75. 
Yours  are  scrubs.' 

" '  All  right,  then,'  said  the  farmer,  '  I  must  try 
another  way.' 

"  The  packer  looked  at  the  man. 

"  '  What  are  you  going  to  do?  ' 

"  '  Hire  a  shed,  kill,  dress,  and  pack  'em  myself.' 

"  '  But  how  will  you  live  the  while?  '  for  he  knew 
the  farmer  could  not  have  a  cent. 

" '  On  them.  Whatever  comes,  I  will  take  away 
from  here  that  fifty  dollars — 'cos  I  said  I  would.' 
Those  men  are  partners  now,  and  rich,  I  am  told." 

He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Half-past  three.  You  must  quit,  friend.  Call 
again  to-morrow  fifteen  minutes  earlier,  and  we'll 
talk  business." 

John  found  the  President  alone  next  day,  with  a 
large  map  spread  upon  the  table. 

"  Come   around   here,"   was   Lincoln's   greeting. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  171 

"  You  will  have  sharper  eyes  than  mine.  I  want  to 
make  out  Santanelle.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  map  of 
Georgia?  " 

''  I  have  two  at  home,  but  neither  is  of  any  ac- 
count.    Santanelle  is  north-west,  sir." 

The  President  looked  up  over  his  spectacles. 

"  Fond  of  maps,  are  you  ?  Do  you  draw  your- 
self?" 

"  I  try  to.  My  mother  and  I  reckoned  to  keep 
track  of  armies,  and,  as  the  atlas  I  had  was  small, 
I  drew  the  maps  myself  on  a  larger  scale  around  the 
seat  of  war  in  Virginia  and  Tennessee.  They  are  but 
bad  ones,  and  only  serve  to  give  a  rough  idea." 

Lincoln  left  the  table,  adjusted  his  spectacles,  and 
put  his  hands  beneath  his  coat  tails. 

"  I  have  made  inquiries.  I  find  it  may  not  be 
necessary  for  you  to  go  South  at  all — we  may  get  an 
exchange." 

He  spoke  slowly,  watching  John's  face.  That 
face  expressed  nothing  but  blank  astonishment. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?"  Lincoln  went  on, 
dryly. 

"  Why  that  his  folk — I  mean  Jean  " — the  Presi- 
dent knew  who  Jean  was — "  would  be  ready  to  give 
her  life  to  you  in  gratitude." 

"And  you — what  about  yourself,  John  Burlet- 
son?" 

John  himg  his  head,  and  Lincoln  saw  his  teeth 
clench. 

"If  you  want  the  truth,  and  I  could  not  frame 
aught  else  to  you,  I  feel  as  if  you'd  robbed  me.  This 
is  my  only  chance  to  go;  but  there — excuse  my  rude- 


172  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

ness — I  could  not,  probably,  have  saved  the  boy  at  all. 
I  am  notliing  in  it — anyhow.  I  thank  you  for  my 
mother's  sake." 

"  Will  you  not  go  if  I  find  the  means?  " 

John  raised  his  head  quickly. 

"  I  have  longed  for  that  all  these  years.  Since 
the  day  I  knew  the  slaves  were  to  be  free,  it  has  been 
almost  more  than  I  could  bear  to  stay  at  home." 

The  President's  face  lighted  up,  and  his  sad  eyes 
glowed  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Then  you  approved  of  the  Proclamation,"  he 
said,  slowly.     "  Tell  me!  " 

"  The  whole  West  approved.  You  gave  us  heart 
and  hope  when  they  were  needed  most.  We  have 
been  a  different  people  since.  Many  a  man  who'd 
not  fight  for  the  Union  has  given  his  life  to  free  the 
slaves.     The  war  is  sacred  now." 

Lincoln  stepped  forward,  and  the  men  clasped 
hands. 

"  Friend,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  as  tender  as  though 
he  were  addressing  a  younger  brother,  "  you  must  go 
to  the  front.  I  have  only  been  trying  you.  Ex- 
changes cannot  be  made  now.  If  that  boy  is  to 
be  brought  out — if  those  hogs  are  to  be  sold — you 
must  put  your  shoulder  to  the  thing  and  do  it 
yourself.  The  most  I  can  do  is  to  clear  the  way; 
that  I  will  gladly  do." 

He  laid  his  arm  on  John's  shoulder  caressingly. 

"  You  are  a  fraud,  John.  One  of  those  men  who 
go  through  life  telling  lies — about  themselves.  AVe 
will  have  you  in  the  army,  and,  please  God,  keep  you 
there  till  we  send  you  liome  with  a  star  upon  your 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL,  173 

collar,  I  shall  write  to  your  mother,  so  that  you  will 
not  get  a  chance  of  backing  down.  I  wish  her  to 
know  that  we  feel  we  owe  her  something  for  sending 
her  son." 

"  She  will  be  the  proudest  woman  in  the  United 
States,"  John  exclaimed. 

"  She  has  need  to  be  middling  proud  of  you. 
When  do  you  start  ?  " 

"  I  will  go  to-night  if  there  is  a  train  South." 

"  One  of  the  men  whose  wheels  are  always  greased, 
eh?  Well,  you  shall  have  a  note  to  General  Sherman 
in  an  hour.  If  you  get  this  man  out,  I  should  like  to 
know  it." 

He  shook  John's  hand  warmly,  and  led  him  to 
the  door  to  cut  short  his  thanks.  AVhen  he  had  gone, 
Lincoln  wheeled  a  chair  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  put 
his  feet  upon  the  mantelpiece.  It  was  an  old  habit 
he  still  indulged  in  when  alone.  He  used  to  say  he 
could  think  better  so. 

"  Uncle  Billy  Sherman  will  not  like  this,"  he  said 
to  himself;  "  but  I  will  have  my  way,  and  he  must 
find  a  place  for  the  boy.  It  is  such  men  who  keep  the 
Union  together  and  will  win  the  war," 

John  left  Washington  at  seven  o'clock  that  even- 
ing. The  President  was  better  than  his  word.  Be- 
sides an  autograph  letter  to  General  Sherman  was  a 
pass  over  the  railroads  to  Chattanooga,  Sherman's 
headquarters,  which  provided  John  with  a  free  jour- 
ney and  excellent  treatment  from  the  officials  all 
along  the  line.  It  was  well  he  had  this  pass,  or  he 
would  have  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  reaching  his 
destination.  The  further  he  went,  the  greater  be- 
12 


174  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

came  the  crush  of  trains,  bearing  freight  for  the  army. 
Nothing  but  such  freight  was  allowed  at  this  time. 
All  private  baggage  and  stores  were  ruthlessly  switched 
into  sidings,  to  be  removed  at  the  owner's  pleasure  or 
to  rot,  as  the  case  might  be.  John,  as  a  private  in- 
dividual, might  have  waited  like  these  cars,  but  the 
pass,  wMcli  elevated  him  to  the  rank  of  a  special  mes- 
senger, overcame  all  difficulties,  and,  after  some  un- 
avoidable delays,  an  engine  was  detached  for  his  bene- 
fit, and  he  was  whirled  on  to  Chattanooga. 

The  army  here,  and  nothing  but  the  army.  Trim, 
sunburnt  men  were  on  the  platform  in  uniform,  sol- 
diers were  unloading  cars,  a  squad  was  drilling  on  a 
plot  of  waste  land  by  the  wayside,  while  further 
away  were  rows  upon  rows  of  tents.  Everywhere  was 
the  hum  and  bustle  of  preparation,  the  men  working 
for  their  lives.  The  stirring  sight  made  John's  heart 
beat  quickly,  and  when  the  strains  of  a  band  and  the 
rattle  of  drums  sounded  from  the  other  side  of  the 
camp,  he  could  have  shouted  aloud  in  his  excitement. 
The  train  stopped,  and  he  was  confronted  by  an  or- 
derly who  was  somewhat  taken  aback  at  the  sight  of 
this  plain  farming-man  in  a  private  car. 

"Secret-service,  dead-head?"  he  said  to  himself 
with  disgust.  "He'll  find  Uncle  Billy  don't  take 
much  stock  in  him." 

"  You  can  see  the  general  now,  if  you  want,"  he 
said  to  John,  after  narrowly  examining  the  letter  and 
pass.     "  Come  around  with  me." 

John  was  surprised.  His  notion  of  a  general's 
•quarters  were  taken  from  the  newspaper  accounts  of 
the  splendour  of  General  McClellan,  the  least  of  which 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  175 

depicted  a  man  in  imposing  gold-laced  uniform,  sur- 
rounded by  a  brilliant  staff,  and  attended  by  a  guard 
of  soldiers  always  under  arms.  Such  a  man,  he  im- 
agined, could  not  be  approached  except  at  certain 
times  and  seasons,  and  then  only  by  special  permis- 
sion. The  readiness  of  the  orderly  to  take  him 
straight  to  Sherman,  he  put  down  in  his  simplicity 
to  the  President's  note.  As  they  approached  a  tent 
which  stood  apart,  with  a  flag  flying  over  it,  John 
looked  in  vain  for  the  brilliant  staff  and  imposing 
uniforms.  Near  the  tent,  which  in  itself  was  rather 
shabbier  than  those  about  it,  sat  a  dozen  men  in  camp- 
chairs  smoking  pipes.  Could  these  be  Sherman's 
staff?  And  could  the  man  in  the  centre,  dressed  in  a 
jacket  of  faded  blue  serge,  and  battered  black  felt  hat, 
sucking  at  a  pipe  which  would  not  draw  with  as  much 
vigour  and  concentrated  energy  as  though  he  were 
charging  the  enemy — could  this  be  the  general  him- 
self? There  was  no  doubt  of  it,  for  the  orderly  stepped 
up  smartly,  as  a  soldier  does  under  the  eye  of  his 
commander,  and  saluting,  presented  the  letter  John 
had  given  him.  While  the  general  read  it  John 
looked  at  him  with  keen  interest,  and  noted  the 
square  head  and  prominent  chin,  the  lips  set  tightly 
together,  the  eyes  extraordinarily  keen  and  alert,  and 
felt  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  one  of  the  greatest 
men  in  the  army.  The  general  read  the  letter  hastily, 
and  cast  a  sharp  glance  at  John;  then  read  it  again — 
slowly,  and  beckoned.  John  stepped  forward.  He 
wanted  to  salute,  but  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  re- 
member which  hand  to  raise,  so  lifted  his  hat  in- 
stead. 


176  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  What  is  your  name?  " 

"  John  Burletson,  General." 

"  Where  are  you  from?  " 

"  Chip23ewa — Wisconsin." 

"Seen  any  fighting?" 

"  Not  yet." 

"  Do  you  want  to?  " 

"  I  do  so."  The  reply  was  so  emphatic  that  the 
staff  chuckled. 

"  When  will  you  begin  ?  " 

"  At  your  orders,  sir." 

"What  baggage  have  you?" 

"  This.  John  displayed  one  small  grip-sack. 
The  officers  laughed  again. 

"  H'm,"  said  the  general,  "  the  President  says  you 
have  ideas.  I  begin  to  think  he  has  grounds  for  the 
notion.  But  ideas,  mind,  are  of  no  kind  of  use  to  a 
soldier  until  he  gets  experience.  Do  you  know  why 
•we  were  whipped  at  Bull  Eun  ?  " 

"  Our  want  of  discipline  for  one  thing?  " 

"  You  have  struck  it." 

"  But  after  all,"  John  added  eagerly,  "  if  we  had 
held  the  enemy's  position  we  would  have  done  as 
well  as  they — or  better." 

"Why  so?" 

"  With  raw  troops  it  is  so  much  easier  to  defend 
than  attack,  at  least,"  pulling  up  as  he  remembered 
to  whom  he  was  speaking,  "  so  I  have  understood." 

Sherman  himself  laughed  this  time. 

"  He  talks  like  General  Scott.  The  only  thing 
that  puzzles  me  is  why  he  was  not  at  Bull  Eun  him- 
self.    However,  if  the  war-fever  has  come  late,  it 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  177 

seems  to  have  stuck  its  claws  deep.  See,  then,  my 
man.  Keport  yourself  to  the  sergeant  of  couriers. 
Orderly,  take  him  to  your  mess.  To-morrow  we  will 
see  what  lies  behind  all  this." 

John  withdrew  and  rejoined  the  orderly,  who, 
from  a  respectful  distance,  had  been  a  keenly  inter- 
ested listener  to  the  foregoing  conversation.  This 
orderly  was  a  smart,  well-built  fellow  of  about  John's 
own  age.  He  wore  long  boots  and  spurs,  and  walked 
with  the  swing  of  a  cavalry  man. 

He  looked  at  John  with  a  friendly  grin. 

"  First  time  you've  met  Uncle  Billy,  I  presume?  " 

"  I  guess  it  is." 

"  But  you've  heard  of  him — I'll  swear." 

"Most  folks  have— why?" 

"  You  played  your  cards  so  well." 

John  looked  up. 

"  I  made  a  mess  of  it  you  mean.  Guess  that  is  so. 
Better  luck  next  time." 

"  No;  that  was  not  my  meaning.  You  had  a 
steepish  pitch  to  climb,  for  if  there's  one  thing  that 
riles  Uncle  Billy  Sherman,  it  is  a  recommendation 
from  Washington.  But  you  climbed,  and  he  is  a 
man  who,  when  he  takes  hold,  will  freeze  uncommon 
hard.     Now  for  supper,  mate." 

They  were  in  the  midst  of  the  camp,  and  from 
every  side  came  the  glare  of  fires,  the  clatter  of  pots 
and  pans,  a  smell  savoury  to  hungry  men.  Soldiers 
were  cooking  their  evening  meal;  mostly  in  frying- 
pans  of  every  remarkable  size  and  shape,  battered  and 
dinted  and  old.  The  faces  of  the  men  John  noticed 
were  battered  too,  but  brown  and  healthy.     There 


178  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

was  little  talking  among  them,  and  none  of  the  loud 
laughter  and  shouting  that  went  on  in  the  camp  of 
recruits  at  Washington.  Sherman's  men  seemed  to 
be  too  hungry  to  laugh,  and  those  who  had  eaten, 
smoked  quietly  and  chattered  in  low  tones.  Nor 
could  John  discover  any  of  the  elaborate  cooking 
ranges  which  had  been  a  feature  near  the  officers 
quarters  in  the  regiment  he  had  seen  up  North, 
Everything  was  as  plain  and  simple  in  construction, 
and  nearly  as  easy  to  carry  away  as  General  Sher- 
man's old  camp-chair. 

The  orderly  halted  before  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  rickety  cooking-stoves  John  had  ever  seen. 
Here  an  immense  man  with  arms  bare  to  the  shoul- 
ders, dressed  in  a  striped  flannel  shirt  and  regimental 
trousers,  was  on  his  hands  and  knees  blowing  at  the 
embers  of  a  dying  fire  to  ignite  a  handful  of  kindling. 

"  This  is  our  sergeant,"  the  orderly  remarked  to 
John.  "  When  he  is  through  blowing,  if  he  don't 
bust,  I  will  introduce  you."  . 

The  man  at  the  fire,  though  he  heard  the  words, 
paid  no  attention  to  the  speaker,  but  puffed  steadily 
at  the  stove  until  a  blaze  rewarded  the  efforts,  and  his 
face  was  well  in  hand.  Then  he  rose  slowly  to  his 
feet,  and  surveying  them  with  arms  akimbo,  addressed 
the  orderly  in  a  voice  like  the  boom  of  heavy  artillery. 

"You  blasted  coon  of  a  deserter,  Mike,  where've 
you  been?  Mighty  little  grub  you  shall  stow  away 
to-night.     I  left  this  fire  to  you." 

"Deserter  indeed!"  was  the  retort.  "Go  to — 
Uncle  Billy.  Man  alive,  why  don't  _you  salute?  Don't 
vou  recognise  the  President's  brother-in-law?     lie's 


I 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  179 

come  to  serve  in  the  rank,  and  Uncle  Billy's  sent  him 
to  you.  Friend,"  addressing  John,  "  Cartwright 
Hornber  stands  before  you.  The  thirstiest  man  the 
Almighty  ever  made;  sergeant  of  couriers;  major- 
domo  of  our  mess;  a  demon  for  his  vittles;  a  baa-lamb 
to  the  foe;  we  call  him  Joshua.  Sergeant,  this  is 
John  Burletson,  Esquire,  from  the  White  House, 
Washington." 

Hornber  grunted. 

"  Dry  up,  you.  John  Burletson,  I  am  pleased  to 
make  your  acquaintance."  He  had  been  looking  hard 
at  John  while  the  orderly  was  speaking,  and  now  ex- 
tended his  hand.  "  I  don't  know  who  you  really  are. 
No  one  takes  any  notice  of  Mike,  but  I  like  your  face, 
and  could  wish  you  were  in  better  company.  Set 
down,  llike,  you  skunk,  help  me  to  get  supper,  we 
are  late  to-night." 

This  last  injunction  was  quite  unnecessary,  for- 
the  orderly's  coat  was  off  before  it  came,  and  he  had 
set  to  work  with  a  skill  and  activity  John  could  not 
sufficiently  admire.  He  presently  discovered  that  this 
]\Iike  was  a  sergeant  and  Hornber's  bosom  friend, - 
The  spectacle  of  these  men  working  while  he  sat  still 
soon  became  too  much  for  John,  and,  at  his  own  re- 
quest, he  began  drawing  water  and  cutting  up  wood 
for  future  use.  One  by  one  other  men  dropped  in 
hot  and  dusty  from  continuous  riding,  and  by  the 
time  the  meal  was  ready  there  were  a  score  of  them, 
some  squatting  on  blankets,  some  on  billets  of  wood, 
others  on  their  own  hats,  John  looked  at  them  with 
great  curiosity.  They  were  couriers  to  Sherman's 
staff;  a-  courier's  duties  being  those  of  orderly  and 


180  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

messenger,  as  occasion  might  require.  They  were  the 
best  riders  in  the  army;  men  of  proved  courage, 
nerve,  and  intelligence;  as  much  accustomed  to  being 
under  fire  as  they  rode  from  division  to  division, 
from  front  to  rear,  conveying  orders  in  writing,  or  by 
word  of  mouth,  to  the  officers  in  command,  as  mill 
hands  to  the  clash  of  machinery.  As  they  ate,  they 
talked  of  the  war;  when  the  march  toward  Georgia 
was  to  begin;  of  the  gigantic  scale  of  Sherman's  prep- 
arations; of  the  distrust  expressed  of  the  young  leader 
by  some  of  the  papers  in  the  Korth,  disputing  among 
themselves  as  to  whether  it  had  any  foundation  in 
fact;  finally  expressing  in  the  strongest  language — 
John  thought  a  little  for  his  benefit — their  contempt 
for  everybody  and  everything  connected  with  the 
Government,  the  press,  and  the  war  office.  John  lis- 
tened to  it  all  in  modest  silence.  No  one  spoke  to 
him,  and  he  looked  upon  himself  as  a  nonentity,  al- 
lowed to  partake  of  the  mess  in  sufferance,  through 
Sherman's  orders.  He  would  have  been  much  amazed 
had  he  overheard  the  conversation  between  Hornber 
and  Mike  as  they  turned  in. 

"  Cart,  old  friend,  give  us  your  ideas.  How  will 
he  shape?  " 

"  Finely.     I'll  bet  you  five  dollars  on  it.    Come!  " 

"  Oh,  it's  my  idea  too.  But  why  do  you  think  so? 
He's  fresh  as  green  corn.  Our  work  will  be  kind  of 
refined  hell  to  him." 

"  It  will  be  so.  But  he'll  go  through.  A  man  so 
straight  in  the  eyes,  firm-set  round  the  jaw,  and  quiet 
in  the  tongue,  is  bound  to  have  it  in  him.  And,  mark 
me,  he's  got  brains,  devilish  good  brains,  which  not 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  181 

one  in  ten  of  us  cusses  really  have,  though  we  all 
think  so.  Anyway,  I'll  lay  my  money  if  you'll  take  it 
up.  Poor  devil,  I  am  sorry  for  him  though  in  one 
way.  If  Uncle  Billy  has  took  hold  as  you  say,  the 
boy  will  have  his  flesh  peeled  clean  away  with  work. 
While  as  for  danger,  we  all  know  that  those  Uncle 
Billy  loves,  as  the  song  says,  die  young." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

The  bugle  sounded  at  the  first  break  of  dawn, 
and  John  felt  on  every  side  the  stir  of  rousing  men. 
He  lay  still  for  a  minute  watching  them.  None 
wasted  time  in  yawning  or  stretching  themselves; 
there  was  not  a  grumble  or  growl;  one  and  all  they 
slipped  from  their  blankets,  drew  on  boots  and  uni- 
forms, and  started  for  work  in  silence.  John  soon 
followed  and  helped  to  get  breakfast,  devouring  with 
the  rest  hard  bread  and  the  toughest  of  beef,  washed 
down  with  muddy  coffee. 

"  Our  camp  fare,"  the  sergeant  said,  watching 
John's  struggle  with  the  beef,  "  has  no  fixin's.  We 
don't  run  to  more  on  active  service,  and  sometimes 
not  as  much." 

John  smiled,  and  did  his  best  to  appear  to  enjoy 
his  breakfast  and  eat  as  fast  as  the  rest,  but  noticed 
with  some  annoyance  that  he  was  longer  over  the 
meal  than  any  one  else.  Such  appetite  as  he  pos- 
sessed was  taken  away  by  ]\Iike  Salter's  announcement 
that  the  general  would  shortly  be  ready  to  see  him. 

John  felt  that  his  fate  was  to  be  decided  this 

morning,  and  was  not  at  all  sure  what  turn  affairs 

would  take.     He  saw  clearly  that  Lincoln's  letter 

alone  would  not  secure  him  the  position  he  desired. 

182 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL,  183 

Sherman,  not  Lincoln,  was  in  command  of  the  army 
here.  Further,  it  was  John's  firm  conviction  that  he 
had  cut  a  sorry  figure  last  night  by  answering  liter- 
ally the  general's  question  about  Bull  Evm.  His 
words,  innocently  meant,  would  be  looked  upon  as 
bare-faced  impudence  from  a  civilian.  So  John  was 
not  happy  in  his  mind,  and  craved  for  active  occupa- 
tion. He  was  alone  for  the  time  being,  and  no- 
ticing that  the  pans  and  dishes  were  strewed  about 
in  confusion,  proceeded  to  gather  them  together  and 
put  everything  in  order,  even  to  placing  under  the 
stove  kindling  for  the  next  fire.  He  then  settled 
himself  down  with  his  back  against  the  tent,  and 
drawing  from  his  bag  a  map  of  Georgia,  was  soon  en- 
grossed with  speculations  concerning  the  probable 
route  of  the  army.  Last  night  the  couriers  had  can- 
vassed this  vigorously  among  themselves,  and  John 
had  stored  away  in  his  memory  the  names  of  the 
places  which  had  been  mentioned  in  the  discussion. 
Now,  spreading  out  the  map  on  the  ground  before 
him,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  dozen  pins  with  heads 
of  gray  and  blue  sealing  wax,  and  began  picking  out 
the  present  positions  of  the  armies  as  far  as  he  knew 
them.  He  was  sublimely  unconscious  that  General 
Sherman  had  strolled  up  unheard  from  behind  and 
was  watching  him. 

"Dalton?  Where  is  Dalton?"  John  muttered. 
"  That  is  where  the  rebs  are  under  Jo.  Johnston. 
There  " — sticking  in  a  big  gray-headed  pin.  "  Now, 
the  boys  said  we  are  to  go  for  that  position  and  drive 
them  out,  or,  better  still,  out-flank  and  crush  them. 
How  will  Uncle  Billy  do  it?"     He  drew  from  an- 


184  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

other  pocket  a  jDair  of  compasses,  and  began  measur- 
ing. "  Twenty  miles  from  Chattanooga."  In  went  a 
blue  pin.  "  But  that  is  bee  line.  The  roads  will  be 
bad,  they  say,  and  are  never  straight.  Two  days' 
march.  And  we  have  those  armies  to  move.  Gen- 
eral Thomas,  with  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  will 
start  first,  as  he  is  at  Cleveland.  Where's  Cleveland? 
There."  In  went  another  blue  pin.  "  Down  the  Ten- 
nessee Eiver  he'll  go  to  Red  Clay  " — there  a  third  pin 
marked  the  place.  "  Yes,  yes  " — studying  the  effect 
— "  simple  to  look  at  but — the  country  is  difficult; 
forest  and  mountains  and  swamps.  Enemy's  covmtry, 
too,  and  Johnston,  the  old  Eeb,  is  a  smart  man — some 
say  smarter  than  Lee.  Uncle  Billy  will  have  his 
hands  full.  Now  " — he  took  up  a  gray  pin — "  if  Dal- 
ton  is  not  held  by  the  rebs,  where  will  Johnston  go? 
Eesaca,  it  was  remarked,  Eesaca? — there.  That  will 
mean  retreat.  Now  supposing  he  turned  upon  our 
rear.  What  a  mine  of  supplies  he  would  find!  He 
could  not  do  it,  I  guess.  Yet  it  is  worth  while  to 
think  how  he  might  try."  He  took  up  another  gray 
pin  and  was  about  to  plant  it  in  the  map  when  Sher- 
man moved  involuntarily  and  John  discovered  him. 
He  sprang  up  horror-struck. 
"  Hand  me  that  thing." 

The  general  spoke  very  quietly  and  pointed  to 
the  map. 

John  picked  it  up,  feeling  like  a  schoolboy  caught 
drawing  caricatures  in  his  exercise  book. 
"  This  is  how  you  spend  your  time?  " 
"  I  was  waiting  for  your  orders.  General." 
"  How  long  have  you  had  this  map?  " 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  185 

"A  month." 

"  Any  others  in  your  bag?     Show  them  to  me." 

John's  spirits  fell  to  zero.  It  struck  him  that 
the  general  would  imagine  him  to  be  the  correspond- 
ent of  some  newspaper — a  person  peculiarly  de- 
tested, he  knew,  by  officers  in  the  field.  Yet  he  felt 
utterly  unable  to  explain  or  defend  himself,  and 
obeyed  the  order  in  silence,  taking  out  maps  of  Mis- 
souri, Tennessee,  and  Virginia.  This  last  was  pricked 
with  innumerable  pin  holes  where  John  had  followed 
the  course  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Not  a  battle 
fought  during  the  war  but  was  located  in  these  maps 
and  showed  the  traces  of  pin  points.  Sherman  exam- 
ined them  one  by  one,  and  folded  them  up. 

"  I  will  keep  them  a  while,"  he  said.  "  This  kind 
of  property  should  not  be  lying  around  loose.  It 
will  be  safer  with  me." 

He  paused,  and  John  saluted,  not  knowing  what 
else  to  do. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  since  I  saw  you — • 
anything  ?  " 

"No,  General."  John  would  have  given  worlds 
to  have  had  a  different  answer. 

"  Nothing  but  eat  and  sleep?  " 

"No,  General." 

"  That's  a  lie!  "  exclaimed  a  voice — Sergeant 
Hornber's. 

"How  is  that?"  said  Sherman,  turning  sharply. 

The  sergeant,  who  had  just  come  up,  saluted  and 
pointed  to  the  pile  of  clean  dishes  and  pans. 

"  Las'  night.  General,  when  you  sent  him  here  he 
ramped  round  working  like  two  men  to  help  get  sup- 


18G  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

per  in,  and  the  chores  done.  This  morning  I  slipped 
out  and  left  every  bit  of  this  outfit  in  a  dirty  mess  and 
muddle.  I  did  it  on  purpose  to  see  how  he'd  act. 
Look  at  it  now!  He  will  work,  whatever  there  is  to 
him  besides." 

General  Sherman  looked  from  one  man  to  the 
other. 

"  Don't  you  call  that  work,  Burletson  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,  General." 

"  Nor  do  I.     Can  he  fight,  Hornber?  " 

"  Try  him.  General." 

"  If  I  do,  it  will  be  on  your  word." 

"  I  will  give  it,  every  time." 

"  Very  well,  put  the  thing  through  then.  It  is 
not  my  idea  of  business,  Burletson,  taking  a  raw  re- 
cruit, whose  only  recommendation  is  a  letter  from 
the  President.  I  was  in  two  minds  this  morning  to 
send  you  back  to  Washington  by  the  first  empty 
freight.  As  for  your  prison  scheme,  I  never  heard 
such  nonsense  in  my  life.  We  shall  not  get  within 
fifty  miles  of  Santanelle.  But  I  will  take  you  as  a 
courier,  at  your  own  risk,  and  chance  it.  You  will 
have  trouble  to  keep  going.  If  you  drop  out,  back 
you  go  to  Wisconsin,  if  you  can  get  there.  Hornber, 
tell  Lieutenant  Snelling  that  by  my  orders  this  man 
is  attached  to  his  command,  and  is  to  be  supplied 
with  necessary  kit  and  horse.  Mind,  he  is  under 
your  eye.  I  expect  that,  before  we  start  South,  you 
will  have  licked  him  into  efficiency.  We  want  no 
half-baked  bread  on  this  campaign." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  with  a  nod,  and  Hornber 
struck  John  a  huge  slap  on  the  back. 


THE   GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  187 

"■  By  thunder,  Burletson,  you  owe  me  two  cock- 
tails for  this  morning's  work  when  we  get  to  any 
liquor.  You  have  slipped  into  what  many  a  two- 
years'  man  would  give  his  soul  for.  Mark  you, 
Uncle  Billy  has  picked  his  army  for  this  Georgia  fan- 
dango, and  the  couriers,  our  couriers,  are  the  pick  of 
that.  If  you  stand  the  racket  you  will  be  in  the  best 
of  running;  but  if  you  fail  with  his  eye  upon  you, 
blue  blazes  is  not  in  it  with  the  storm  that  will  break 
on  you." 

John  did  not  see  his  maps  again,  but  he  did  not 
miss  them  much.  Work  for  twelve,  fourteen,  and 
sometimes  eighteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  was 
the  order  of  the  day.  Lieutenant  Snelling,  in  com- 
mand of  the  couriers,  the  smartest  subaltern  in  the 
army,  looked  with  little  favour  on  the  new  recruit. 

"  Sherman  has  played  it  rather  low  on  me,"  he 
said  to  Hornber.  "  An  awkward,  heavy,  farm  help — 
why,  he'll  put  a  sore  back  on  every  horse  he  rides — if 
he  can  ride — and  run  clean  away  to  the  rear  when  he 
gets  under  fire.     I  don't  like  it." 

But  the  sergeant  stood  John's  friend,  and  the 
lieutenant  presently  found  that  his  first  apprehension 
at  least  was  unfounded.  There  was  no  elegance  in 
John's  riding,  it  was  true,  but  the  big-limbed  beast 
they  chose  for  him,  with  a  mouth  like  a  steel  trap  and 
the  obstinacy  of  a  Government  mule,  soon  discovered 
that  it  had  found  its  master.  "  Ye-es  he'll  get 
along,"  the  lieiitenant  said,  "  and  p'r'aps  keep  his  own 
skin  safe;  but  I  doubt  if  he  will  do  much  more." 

John  was  privately  of  the  lieutenant's  opinion 
when  it  was  retailed  to  him  by  the  friendly  Mike; 


188  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

but  he  kept  his  ideas  to  himself  and  only  worked 
harder  than  ever.  Half  of  every  day  he  was  put 
through  severe  cavalry  drill,  the  rest  of  the  time  be- 
ing sent  on  courier  duty  far  and  wide.  Yet,  hard 
as  the  work  was,  he  enjoyed  the  life,  and  wrote  cheer- 
fully to  his  mother,  receiving  glowing  letters  in  reply. 
Mrs.  Burletson  was  brimming  over  with  pride  at  the 
President's  note  and  prophesied  for  John  a  future  of 
dazzling  brilliance.  He  smiled  at  her  words,  but 
laid  the  letter  down  almost  impatiently.  It  was 
strange  that  his  mother,  of  all  people,  should  think 
that  he  had  volunteered  to  win  glory  and  honour  for 
himself.  Surely  she  knew  that  while  she  lived  the 
career  of  a  soldier  was  not  for  him.  Seth's  release 
once  secured,  he  would  go  home.  Seth's  safety  was 
the  beginning  and  end  of  his  campaign;  meanwhile 
he  must  do  his  duty.  Sometimes  John  brooded  over 
the  risks  he  would  soon  begin  to  run,  and  then  he 
wondered  whether  he  was  a  coward;  but  his  mother's 
grief  if  he  were  killed  troubted  him  more  than  his 
own  danger.  After  all,  she  was  well  provided  for  as 
far  as  money  went,  and  she  had  Jean,  who  would  be 
a  real  daughter  to  her  now. 

John's  training  lasted  imtil  the  1st  of  May,  when 
the  advance  southward  began.  He  had  now  to  take 
his  place  as  a  soldier,  and  from  earliest  dawn  until 
the  last  gleam  of  daylight  he  was  in  the  saddle.  It 
was  hard  work.  Sometimes  he  would  lose  his  way  in 
the  forest  and  wander  about  for  hours  before  he  could 
find  it  again,  or  come  unexpectedly  upon  a  hidden 
swamp  into  which  his  horse  would  plunge,  to  the  im- 
minent danger  of  both  sinking  hopelessly  in  the  mud- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  1S9 

dy  slime.  Often  he  would  have  to  ride  from  sunrise 
to  sunset  without  bite  or  sup  under  a  blazing  sun. 
He  had  to  learn  to  take  all  such  incidents  as  part  of 
the  day's  work.  Then  there  was  the  danger  of  fall- 
ing into  the  enemy's  hands,  a  thing  to  be  avoided  at 
all  costs  by  couriers  lest  the  rebels  should  gain  im- 
portant news  by  deciphering  the  despatches.  Over 
the  camp  fire  at  night  the  couriers  told  many  a  grim 
tale  of  hair-breadth  escapes  and  of  what  captured  men 
suffered  in  the  Southern  prisons.  The  accounts  were 
so  revolting  that  John  turned  sceptical  at  once,  and 
was  only  convinced  of  their  truth  by  a  melancholy 
confirmation  by  Hornber.  The  sergeant  knew  of 
John's  plans  concerning  Santanelle — told  under 
promise  of  secrecy — and  he  was  hugely  interested 
though  puzzled. 

"  I  can't  make  out  the  kind  of  man  you  are,"  he 
said  one  evening,  "  not  one  little  bit.  Yet  it  is  my 
business  to  try,  for  Uncle  Billy's  words  stay  by  me 
all  the  time.  What  could  bring  a  man  fixed  as  you 
were  in  business  to  volunteer  in  Just  this  way — that's 
what  besets  me.  I  cannot  think  why  this  one  man 
int'rests  you  so  powerfully.  Some  men  might  do  it 
for  him.  There's  been  cranks  by  the  mile  in  our 
country  since  the  war  began,  but  you  ain't  one  of  that 
stock.  Leastways  if  you  be,  the  rest  of  your  machin- 
ery is  put  together  in  a  wonderful  way.  Tell  me 
what  it  is." 

But  John  laughed  and  said  he  was  too  tired. 
Then  they  discussed  the  question  of  the  hour. 

Dalton,  the  position  held  by  General  Johnston, 
was  just  ahead.  It  had  taken  two  weeks  to  do  what 
13 


190  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

John  in  his  ignorance  thought  would  be  done  in  two 
days.  But  they  were  tliere  at  last,  and  the  first  real 
tussle  of  the  campaign  was  at  hand.  In  these  discus- 
sions, in  which  all  the  couriers  who  happened  to  be 
awake  took  part,  John  was  no  longer  a  mere  listener. 
His  careful  study  of  former  campaigns  gave  him 
knowledge  which  the  rest  were  quick  to  see.  He  sel- 
dom advanced  an  opinion  without  being  asked,  but 
when  he  had  given  his  views  he  stuck  to  tliem  tena- 
ciously; arguments  rarely  beat  his  notions  out  of  him. 
This,  together  with  the  zeal  and  diligence  he  put  into 
his  work,  gave  him  a  position  in  the  corps,  and  few 
remembered  that  with  it  all  he  was  a  mere  recruit, 
who  had,  so  far,  never  been  under  fire.  John  him- 
self, however,  knew  it  well.  The  night  before  the 
first  battle  he,  slept  little,  thinking  of  the  chances  of 
the  morrow;  but  the  next  morning  he  rose  as  usual, 
before  the  rest,  and  was  ready  to  face  all  fate  might 
bring.  The  first  to  rise,  he  was  the  first  to  report 
himself,  and  whether  from  this  reason,  or  some  other, 
he  heard  to  his  great  satisfaction  that  he  was  to  wait 
orders  from  the  general.  Sherman  looked  at  John 
with  a  sharp  and  critical  eye  as  he  handed  him  a 
letter. 

"  You  will  take  this  to  General  McPherson.  Do 
you  know  where  he  is?  " 

"  The  Sugar  Valley,  General." 

"  How  long  will  it  take  you  to  get  there?  " 

John  made  a  rapid  calculation  of  distances. 

"  Two  hours,  General." 

"  You  know  your  way  ?  " 

"  I  will  find  it." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  191 

"  See  that  you  keep  to  time.  How  do  you  like 
it  now?" 

"  First  rate,  General." 

"  H'm,  wait  till  you  have  smelt  powder.  You  will 
do  it  to-day,  and  perhaps  have  little  else  to  live  on 
for  a  time.     We  shall  see  how  you  like  that." 

John  was  piqued  at  the  general's  manner,  and  as 
he  rode  off  to  find  Hornber  to  ask  the  way  to  Sugar 
Valley,  he  determined  that,  come  what  might,  he 
would  prove  to  Sherman  that  he  was  mistaken. 
Hornber  was  on  the  lookout  for  him. 

"How  long  will  it  take  to  ride  to  McPherson?" 
was  John's  first  question. 

He  had  answered  the  general  to  the  best  of  his 
knowledge;  but  experience  had  taught  him  that  dis- 
tances were  often  deceptive. 

"  That's  your  job?  Thunder!  Uncle  Billy's  put 
you  in  for  a  tall  contract  this  time — no  mistake!  " 

"  How  long  will  it  take  me?  " 

"  Depends.  If  you  get  there — I  say  if — you  may 
calc'ate  on  a  four  or  five  hours'  run." 

John  patted  his  horse's  neck. 

"  We've  to  do  it  in  two." 

Hornber  gave  a  grunt  of  contempt. 

"Two?     Who  said  that?" 

"  I  did.  Sherman  asked  me.  Afterward  he  said 
it  must  be  done  in  that  time." 

"  Sherman's — w^ell,  never  mind.  But  I  tell  you 
it  is  impossible.  The  way  to  Sugar  Valley  is  the 
worst  to  find  anywhere  round,  and  'twill  be  swarming 
with  rebs.     '^^Hiy,  it's  twenty  miles  bee  line." 

"  I  know  it;  that's  why  I  said  two  hours." 


192  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  You  were  a  fool,"  was  the  rough  answer.  "  And 
your  foolishness  will  likely  be  your  death.  Bee 
line  indeed,  man.  The  rebs  are  between  us  and  Mc- 
Pherson.  You'll  have  to  go  round  miles  and  then 
take  a  hundred  chances.  But  this  talk  won't  get 
you  there.     Got  a  compass?" 

"  I  have." 

"  Well,  then,  strike  southeast  direct  for  about 
five  miles,  until  you  come  to  timber.  Then  turn 
south  and  hold  to  that  course  till  you  make  Mc- 
Pherson's  lines.  Bait  your  horse  and  yourself  well 
first." 

John  settled  himself  in  his  saddle. 

"  That  will  wait  till  we  get  there.     Good-bye!  " 

He  went  off  at  a  brisk  hand  gallop,  while  Hornber 
stood  and  cursed. 

"  Darned  hard,  I  say.  It  is  hard.  Darn  Uncle 
Billy!  I  never  knew  his  like  for  driving  a  willing 
horse  to  death.  Why  don't  he  send  trash  on  such 
an  errand?  There's  nothing  in  that  despatch,  I'll 
swear  there  ain't.  It  is  too  bad  to  throw  away  the 
chances  of  such  a  one  as  John.     Blast  it  all!  " 

John  rode  fast  and  straight — not  too  hard,  for 
the  horse  must  be  spared  at  first;  but  without  turn- 
ing aside  for  obstacles  such  as  he  would  have  carefully 
avoided  the  day  before.  Sherman's  words  still 
rankled,  and  he  was  in  no  pleasant  mood.  But  he 
knew  more  than  Hornber  about  the  despatch,  and  was 
sure  that  its  importance  could  not  be  exaggerated. 
There  was  some  comfort  in  feeling  that  he  had  been 
intrusted  with  it. 

The  couriers  in  the  American  war  were  better 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  193 

posted  concerning  the  enemy's  movements  than  very 
many  of  their  officers.  Tlieir  work  cultivated  quick- 
ness of  perception  to  tlie  liigliest  point,  and  they  often 
heard  orders  given  of  whicli  no  one  else  was  aware, 
but  which  they  religiously  communicated  to  each 
other.  Thus  John  knew  that  McPherson,  who  had 
moved  his  division  south  of  Dalton,  was  out-flanking 
Johnston,  and  he  shrewdly  suspected  that  the  de- 
spatch he  bore  was  an  order  from  Sherman  to  move 
forward  at  all  speed  and  prevent  the  enemy  from  for- 
tifying himself  on  the  heights  of  Eesaca,  a  few  miles 
south.  Very  much  might  depend  upon  the  early  de- 
livery of  the  despatch. 

As  John  thought  of  all  this  he  rode  harder  and 
harder.  All  went  well  for  a  few  miles.  His  horse 
was  fresh  and  powerful,  the  ground  was  hard  and 
safe.  Then  came  the  turn  to  the  south,  and  a  change 
crept  over  everything.  It  was  sultry  weather,  and 
the  perspiration  streamed  from  man  and  horse. 
John  wondered  whether  he  had  urged  his  beast  too 
hard.  But  his  thoughts  soon  took  another  turn, 
for  a  breeze  from  the  south  bore  with  it  a  dull  mut- 
tering sound.  Was  it  thunder?  No.  John  smiled 
at  his  mistake.  It  was  the  distant  boom  of  artillery. 
Had  any  old  friend  seen  John's  face  Just  now,  he 
would  have  observed  it  change  in  a  curious  way;  the 
gentleness  characteristic  of  the  man  even  under 
the  stress  of  sore  trouble  and  affliction  had  suddenly 
disappeared;  while  his  eyes  brightened,  the  outlines 
of  the  face  hardened  until  they  stood  out  square  and 
prominent,  and  the  lips  closed  tightly  upon  one  an- 
other.    The  sound  of  those  guns  had  chan2;ed  John 


194  THE   GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

from  a  peaceful  farmer  to  a  fighter  keen  as  the  blade 
of  the  sword  he  wore.  John's  horse  knew  this,  for 
his  rider  pressed  his  sides  with  a  sudden  grip  and 
pricked  him  with  the  spur  which  he  had  not  used  be- 
fore. The  way  grew  tire^me  and  difficult;  the  apol- 
ogy of  a  road  John  had  been  following  hitherto  died 
away  altogether,  and  his  -course  lay  through  forest 
with  thick  undergrowth.  As  he  forced  his  way 
through  it  the  grim  shade  of  the  trees  closed  above 
him  till  he  might  be  compared  to  some  insect  strug- 
gling through  long  grass.  Would  he  ever  come  out 
alive?  But  this  question  did  not  trouble  him.  He 
pushed  on,  plunging  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  for- 
est's unknown  depths,  his  mind  and  soul  full  of  one 
thing  only — the  guns.  Toward  the  place  where  the 
battle  was  raging  he  pressed  on  with  all  his  speed. 
He  forgot  Hornber's  warning,  where  Dalton  lay,  or 
where  Johnston's  army  might  be.  He  heard  the  ar- 
tillery fire  growing  steadily  louder.  There  was  the 
Union  army  and  General  McPherson.  The  only 
thought  in  his  mind  now  was,  how  to  get  the  letter 
tlijere  in  time. 


CHAPTEE   XVII. 

One  hour  had  passed  and  forty-five  minute^  of 
another,  and  John  was  still  plunging  on  through  the 
forest,  and  seemed  as  far  from  his  journey's  end  as 
ever.  The  ground  was  very  uneven,  and  though  in 
the  uplands,  where  the  trees  were  of  sparser  growth 
and  the  soil  drier,  he  was  ahle  to  proceed  at  a  fair 
pace;  in  the  hollows  the  surface  was  a  mere  sponge  of 
black  oozy  mud,  into  which  his  horse  sank  to  the  fet- 
locks. But  on  they  went,  slipping  and  sliding  down 
hill,  scrambling  up,  horse  and  man  plastered  with  evil- 
smelling  slime  and  choked  with  thirst,  yet  full  of 
spirit  still;  for  louder  and  ever  louder  came  the 
sound  of  the  guns. 

John  strained  his  eyes  and  ears  now  to  the  utter- 
most for  signs  of  the  armies,  friend  or  foe.  A  courier 
who  is  up  to  his  work  will  have  the  senses  and  craft 
of  a  backwoodsman,  especially  the  quick  ear  and  keen 
sight.  But  John  possessed  none  of  these  things,  and 
with  the  heedlessness  of  inexperience  he  forced  his 
way  onward  much  too  fast  until  he  came  without 
warning  into  imminent  danger.  He  would  have  been 
a  lost  man  but  for  his  horse.  This  beast,  however, 
had  been  on  such  work  before,  and  no  sooner  did  he 
scent  the  approach  of  his  kind  than  he  stopped  of 

195 


196  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

his  own  accord  and  suspiciously  sniffed  the  air. 
John  looked  about  and  listened.  Nothing  was  to  be 
seen,  but  he  could  hear  the  faint  swish  of  hoofs 
tramping  over  swampy  ground  ahead.  He  was  in  one 
hollow,  they  in  the  next,  and  this  gave  him  a  minute 
to  think.  They  might  be  friends,  but  this  must  not 
be  counted  upon.  If  they  were  enemies,  he  was  in 
an  ugly  situation.  To  escape  he  must  mount  the 
rising  ground  behind,  where  he  would  be  in  full  view 
at  short  range.  If  they  did  not  shoot  him  or  his 
horse,  he  would  have  to  make  a  wider  detour  to  es- 
cape them,  and  waste  many  precious  minutes.  It 
was  no  time,  however,  for  regrets.  Delay  was  better 
than  capture.  He  turned  and  spurred  his  horse, 
which  responded  gallantly.  Halfway  up  the  rise  he 
heard  the  ping  of  rifle  bullets,  and  turned  in  the  sad- 
dle to  see  a  dozen  men  in  slouch  hats  blazing  at  him 
as  coolly  as  if  he  were  a  partridge.  They  did  not 
trouble  themselves  to  ride  after  him,  but  sat  and  fired 
three  at  a  time.  Forward  went  John's  body  over  the 
saddle  bow,  home  went  his  spurs  again,  and  the  horse 
bounded  on  like  a  mad  creature.  They  reached  the 
crest  of  the  hill  in  safety,  and  John  saw  that  most  of 
the  men  had  started  in  pursuit.  One,  however,  kept 
still,  taking  slow  and  careful  aim.  Oracle !  the  bul- 
let sang  through  the  air  and  hit  his  horse  in  the 
shoulder.  The  poor  beast  stumbled,  staggered,  and 
fell;  but  John  had  time  to  clear  his  feet  of  the  stir- 
rups and  leap  to  the  ground.  His  misfortune  was 
greeted  with  a  loud  yell,  and  the  rebels  dashed  up  the 
hill  toward  him,  sure  of  their  prize.  But  John  paid 
no  atfenfion  to  their  shouts.     The  possibility  of  Iris 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  19  7 

horse  being  hit  had  occurred  to  him  before  and  he 
had  thought  of  a  way  to  meet  it.  To  the  left  of  the 
rise,  stretching  southward  for  some  distance,  was  a 
low-lying  treacherous  morass.  John  had  carefully 
avoided  it,  thinking,  as  he  passed,  what  a  pleasant 
place  it  would  be  for  an  army  to  come  upon  in  a 
dark  night.  Now,  it  was  his  one  chance  of  escape. 
As  the  enemy  galloped  up  to  the  wounded  horse, 
John  ran  down  the  slope.  He  calculated  that  for  a 
short  distance  he  could  out-pace  the  horses  over  such 
rough  ground,  and  was  relieved  to  see  they  were  well 
behind  when  he  reached  the  end  of  the  morass.  He 
leaped  in  desperately.  He  might  sink  to  his  neck; 
the  enemy  might  not  sink  deeper  than  himself,  which 
would  be  equally  fatal.  At  the  first  step  the  slime 
reached  to  his  ankles,  the  next,  halfway  to  his  knee;  it 
was  cold  and  sticky  and  made  anything  like  swift  pro- 
gress out  of  the  question;  but  it  got  no  worse,  and 
though  the  shots  of  the  pursuers  as  they  drew  nearer 
came  dangerously  close,  thanks  to  the  reeds  and  rank 
vegetation  on  the  surface  of  the  swamp,  John  escaped 
harm  and  was  well  upon  his  way  by  the  time  the 
horsemen  reached  the  edge.  It  was  a  critical  moment 
now,  as  the  horses  were  urged  upon  the  quagmire. 
To  John's  relief,  only  one  consented  to  enter,  and, 
falling,  narrowly  escaped  a  miserable  death.  At  this, 
some  of  the  men  dismounted  and  followed  John  on 
foot,  and  he  saw  that  it  must  now  come  to  a  race,  to 
be  won  by  endurance.  He  measured  the  distance  be- 
tween himself  and  his  pursuers  and  deliberately  sat 
down  and  took  off  his  boots.  This  brought  the  rebels 
terribly  near,  and  they  fired  upon  him  with  their  re- 


198  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

volvers;  but  it  gave  him  great  advantage  later,  upon 
which  several  of  them  did  the '  same.  John  was  a 
fairly  good  runner  and  was  used  to  rough  ground; 
moreover,  he  was  in  good  hard  condition  and  able 
to  stand  a  great  deal  of  severe  exercise.  Yet  he  felt 
that  from  the  first  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time.  The 
Southerners  were  more  active  than  he.  They  knew 
something  of  swamps,  and  picked  out  the  best  paths, 
while  he  went  straight  through  everything  fair  and 
foul.  One  mile — two — still  the  chase  went  on.  Yet 
the  distance  was  lessening  foot  by  foot,  and  the  rebels 
showed  no  signs  of  giving  up.  Unless  a  change  were 
to  come  within  a  very  few  minutes,  he  would  be  taken 
prisoner — no,  not  a  prisoner — John  was  determined 
there.  So  far,  he  had  not  replied  to  the  attack,  sav- 
ing both  breath  and  strength  for  escape;  but  he  was 
fully  armed.  He  drew  his  revolver  and  cocked  it; 
loosened  his  knife  in  its  sheath;  looked  for  a  tree  or 
a  stump  or  thick  bush  where  he  might  come  to  bay 
and  show  his  teeth  at  last.  Thus  searching,  he  no- 
ticed that  he  was  at  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  and  that 
forest  land  was  beginning  again,  though  not  of  such 
thick  growth  as  before.  Suddenly  his  eye  caught 
something  more — something  directly  in  front  not 
half  a  mile  away,  neither  a  tree  nor  a  bush,  but  a  man 
with  his  back  toward  him,  leaning  upon  a  rifle.  The 
discovery  gave  new  strength  to  John's  weary  limbs 
and  muscles;  but  it  still  remained  to  be  ascertained 
whether  the  man's  uniform  was  blue  or  gray.  He 
stood  in  the  shade,  and  at  first  John  could  not  see 
how  be  was  clad;  then  he  moved  to  one  side  and,  see- 
ing the  approacliing  figure,  covered  it  witli  his  rifle. 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  199 

At  the  same  moment  a  rift  of  sunlight  struck  upon 
his  coat.  The  coat  was  blue.  John  waved  his  arms 
and  shouted  "  Friend!  "  with  all  the  strength  that  was 
in  him,  and  redoubled  his  speed;  while  the  enemy 
paused,  hesitated,  fired  a  few  desultory  shots,  and 
turned  back.  By  the  time  John  had  reached  the  sen- 
try, a  picket  of  a  dozen  men  had  come  to  his  support, 
most  of  whom,  at  sight  of  the  sorry  figure  before 
them,  laughed  till  they  were  weak.  Mud,  black  and 
shining,  encrusted  John's  face,  mud  clung  in  clots 
to  his  hair,  and  covered  his  coat  and  trousers  so  com- 
pletely that  the  corporal  in  charge  of  the  picket  sug- 
gested that  he  should  be  scraped  to  see  if  he  really 
were  a  Union  man.  John,  when  he  got  his  breath, 
laughed  too,  and  begged  for  the  loan  of  some  decent 
garments  before  he  was  conducted  to  General  Mc- 
Pherson.  But  this  was  denied  him,  and,  dripping 
and  disreputable,  he  was  led  at  once  to  the  com- 
mander of  the  troops.  McPherson  received  him  kind- 
ly, and,  ordering  him  to  refresh  himself,  provided 
another  horse  and  gave  him  a  letter  for  General  Sher- 
man. John  rested  an  hour,  and  then  sat  out  on  his 
homeward  journey.  He  found  that  the  Confederates 
he  had  met  belonged  to  a  brigade  of  cavalry  retreat- 
ing before  McPherson's  advance.  The  return  ride 
was  accomplished  without  adventure,  but  the  way  was 
so  difficult  to  find  and  the  country  so  bad  for  travel- 
ling that  it  was  after  dark  when  he  reached  the  lines 
at  last,  and  reported  to  Lieutenant  Snelling.  Horn- 
ber  was  with  the  lieutenant,  and  both  men  exclaimed 
Avhen  they  saw  John,  the  sergeant  gripping  his  hand 
till  it  ached. 


200  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  Eesurrected,  so  help  me!  "  he  shouted.  "  I 
never  expected  to  see  you  this  side  of  anywhere  again. 
We  guessed  you  was  plugged  for  sure.  The  general 
has  sent  twice  to  inquire;  he's  powerful  interested  in 
you." 

"  In  my  despatches?     I  will  take  them  to  him." 

John  found  Sherman  inside  his  tent.  He  read 
the  letter  and  smiled. 

"  McPherson  has  done  it  handsomely,"  he  ex- 
claimed to  his  officers.  "  If  he  follows  up,  we  shall 
do." 

Then  he  turned  to  John: 

"  You  delivered  my  note?  " 

"  Yes,  General." 

"What  time  from  here?" 

"  Three  hours  thirty-five  minutes." 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  in  two." 

"  I  did  not  know  how  bad  the  country  was  when 
I  said  that." 

"  You  should  not  have  said  it,  then.  Did  you 
have  any  accident?" 

"  My  horse  was  shot." 

"  You  did  not  mention  that.  Shot  him  yourself, 
by  mistake?  " 

John  was  too  tired  to  smile. 

"  I  ran  upon  a  patrol  of  rebel  cavalry,  Gen- 
eral, and  was  fired  on  and  chased,  and  ray  horse 
fell." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"  Ran  it  on  "foot." 

"How  far?" 

"  Two  milop,  as  far  as  I  can  reckon." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  201 

"Pshaw!  Can  you  beat  horses?  You  said  the 
rebs  were  cavalr3^inen,  remember." 

John,  thus  questioned,  was  obliged  against  his 
will  to  relate  all  that  had  happened.  When  he  men- 
tioned the  loss  of  his  boots,  Sherman  took  up  a  lan- 
tern and  examined  his  legs. 

"  By  George,  friends,"  he  said  to  his  staff,  "  he 
tells  the  truth.  There  is  not  a  boot  to  him. — Go 
on — how  did  you  get  through  ?  " 

John  told  him.  Then  the  general  said: 
"  I  will  tell  you  something.  I  gave  you  a  really 
tough  bit  of  work  to-day.  I  thought  you  knew  too 
much,  and  did  too  little.  I  see  that  I  made  a  mis- 
take, and  I  will  not  forget  it.  Go  to  your  supper; 
you  deserve  a  better  one  than  you  will  get." 

When  Hornber  heard  John's  adventure  he 
laughed  loud  and  long. 

"  What  a  doggoned  fool  you  must  have  been  to 
put  your  head  so  far  into  the  hornet's  nest  before  you 
found  them  out!  You  are  not  sharp  enough  for  our 
work  yet,  John — not  by  a  hundred  miles.  Still,  you 
have  pleased  Uncle  Billy.  You  are  on  the  right 
track  with  him,  and  that  is  everything." 

John  did  not  see  how  this  could  be.  He  said  all 
he  had  shown  was  a  capacity  for  running  away.  He 
had  certainly  got  through  with  the  message,  but  he 
had  been  an  hour  and  a  half  behind  the  time.  He 
would  have  argued  the  matter  from  this  point  of  view, 
but  Hornber  laughed  him  down. 

"  That  is  all  you  can  see  in  it,  Johnny,  yourself? 
Well,  I'm  blest!  There — go  to  sleep — I  am  not  go- 
ing to  say  another  word.     Leave  it  in  Uncle  Billy's 


202  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

hands.  You've  no  need  to  do  more,  or  think  the 
least.     Turn  in,  man,  and  go  to  sleep." 

For  a  few  days  John  was  put  on  light  duty,  as 
the  ride  and  the  run  had  exhausted  him  more  than 
he  knew.  Then  back  he  went  to  his  work  again, 
which,  as  the  army  was  now  in  the  midst  of  active 
operations,  was  harder  than  ever. 

The  force  under  Sherman  amounted  to  ninety- 
eight  thousand  men  of  all  arms.  It  was  divided 
into  three  armies — the  Army  of  the  Cumberland, 
under  General  Thomas;  the  Army  of  the  Ten- 
nessee, under  General  McPherson;  and  the  Army  of 
the  Ohio,  under  General  Schofield.  Sherman  him- 
self was  with  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  the  most 
important  of  the  three.  Since  the  1st  day  of  May 
these  armies  had  been  closing  in  upon  the  Confeder- 
ates under  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  who  had 
only  fifty  thousand  effective  troops.  But  though  the 
Federals  outnumbered  the  enemy,  they  were  in  a  hos- 
tile country,  and  were  obliged  to  bring  with  them  a 
huge  supply-train.  This  had  to  be  strongly  guarded, 
and  drew  considerable  strength  from  the  attacking 
force;  while  the  Confederates,  besides  being  able  to 
collect  supplies  as  they  needed  them  and  obtained  in- 
formation from  the  friendly  inhabitants  of  their  ad- 
versaries' movements,  occupied  strongly  fortified  posi- 
tions, which  could  be  held  against  a  much  larger  force 
than  their  own.  Sherman  began  his  attacks  by  at- 
tempting to  drive  the  Confederates  from  their  in- 
trenchments  by  direct  assault;  but  this  resulted  in 
so  much  loss  that  he  decided  to  turn  the  position.  To 
do  this  it  was  necessary  to  leave  the  railroad  by  which 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  203 

his  supplies  reached  him,  and  storing  up  twenty  days' 
rations  in  wagons,  strike  for  the  heart  of  the  country, 
his  armies  proceeding  by  different  routes,  to  converge 
at  a  p*oint  south  of  the  main  positions  occupied  by  the 
enemy.  By  this  means  Sherman  hoped  to  induce 
Johnston  to  evacuate  his  strongholds  for  the  purpose 
of  guarding  the  country  below  and  thereb}^  give  him 
battle  on  equal  terms.  The  danger  of  the  plan  to 
the  Union  army  was  that,  being  cut  off  from  its  base 
of  supplies,  it  might  run  short  of  food  before  gaining 
command  of  the  railroads  to  the  south,  which  were 
now  in  Confederate  hands.  The  chief  difficulties  of 
the  march  were  the  bad  roads,  the  forests  and  swamps 
through  which  they  must  force  their  way,  and,  worst 
of  all,  ignorance  of  the  enemy's  movements,  together 
with  the  disadvantage  that  their  own  designs  would 
probably  be  ascertained  from  the  first.  Even  to  keep 
up  constant  communication  between  the  armies  was 
difficult  enough  and  had  to  be  done  solely  by  couriers. 
This  formed  the  basis  of  John's  work. 

He  soon  began  to  understand  his  business,  and 
learned  to  slip  past  detachments  of  the  enemy  without 
attracting  notice;  to  exchange  revolver  shots  with 
the  cavalry  picket  and  ride  away  under  fire  without 
the  quiver  of  an  eyelid;  to  dash  past  a  line  of  skir- 
mishers and  hear  the  musket  balls  patter  round  him 
like  hail;  and,  worst  of  all,  to  ride  steadily  about  his 
business  while  shells  screamed  overhead  and  burst  far 
and  near,  and  men  were  falling  on  every  side,  torn 
in  pieces  by  the  bombs.  He  was  often  hailed  by 
wounded  men  wanting  help,  cr}ang  for  water — al- 
ways for  water;  others  shrieking  and  blaspheming  in 


204  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

their  agony.  Where  occasion  allowed,  John  stopped 
to  give  what  help  he  could,  but  more  often  he  had  to 
harden  his  heart  and  hasten  on.  The  succour  of 
the  wounded  was  not  for  him. 

John  saw  little  of  the  commander-in-chief,  ex- 
cept to  receive  and  take  messages  and  pass  on  his 
sharp  decisive  orders.  But,  even  by  acting  as  orderly 
to  Sherman,  John's  practical  knowledge  of  the  posi- 
tion of  affairs  rapidly  increased  and  widened  his 
grasp  of  military  matters.  The  discussion  among  the 
couriers  in  camp  had  ceased  now,  the  men  being  too 
wearied  with  their  long  rides  to  talk.  But  John  and 
the  sergeant  still  kept  up  the  custom. 

The  progress  of  Sherman's  march  was  slow  and 
uncertain.  McPherson's  army  had  forged  ahead; 
Schofield's  on  the  left  flank  was  many  miles  in  the 
rear;  while  between  them,  separated  from  each,  was 
the  Army  of  the  Cumberland.  The  difficulties  of  the 
situation  culminated  on  the  25th  of  May  by  an  unex- 
pected meeting  with  the  enemy  by  the  Army  of  the 
Cumberland  not  far  from  the  point  where  the  Union 
forces  should  have  concentrated.  At  this  place  the 
Confederates  were  massed  in  considerable  strength, 
a  circumstance  not  anticipated  by  Sherman,  who, 
however,  knowing  the  importance  of  carrying  the 
position,  ordered  an  immediate  attack.  The  order 
was  obeyed  vigorously,  though  the  men  were  tired 
after  a  long  day's  march;  but  it  resulted  in  nothing, 
for  the  Confederates  were  well  protected  in  heavy 
timber  and  repulsed  the  attack.  When  darkness 
came  on  the  fighting  stopped,  leaving  both  armies  in 
some   confusion,   for   the   forest   growth   was   thick. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  205 

and  the  rain  was  coming  down  in  torrents.  The 
muddle  soon  became  fearful.  Not  only  was  the  bat- 
tle completely  quenched,  but  it  is  related  that  both 
Confederates  and  Federals  severally  lost  their  ways, 
straggled  in  large  numbers  into  one  another's  camps, 
discovered  their  mistakes,  and  slipped  out  again  with- 
out a  shot  being  fired.  John,  who  was  conveying  a 
message  from  General  Schofield  to  Sherman,  after  a 
vain  attempt  to  find  his  commander,  groped  about 
until  he  came  to  a  fallen  tree,  to  which  he  tied  his 
horse,  sitting  down  beneath  it  to  rest.  It  was  pitch 
dark,  and  he  hunted  for  matches  to  light  a  pipe.  He 
had  just  found  that  his  box  was  lost,  when  some  one 
tripped  over  his  feet  and  nearly  fell  on  top  of  him. 
The  voice  of  the  man  who  tripped  and  who  began 
cursing  loudly  was  Sergeant  Hornber's.  John  made 
himself  known,  and  they  sat  side  by  side  and  grum- 
bled; then  talked  of  the  present  situation,  unconscious 
that  at  the  other  side  of  the  log  lay  General  Sherman. 
He  had  lost  his  way  like  many  another  officer  that 
night,  and^as  trying  to  snatch  a  few  hours  of  sleep. 


14 


CHAPTER    XVIIL 

Sergeant  Hoenber,  in  common  with  most  of 
tlie  army  at  this  particular  time,  was  in  a  very  bad 
temper;  and  he  made  use  of  language  to  relieve  his 
feelings  which  we  will  not  write  down. 

"  Gol-darn  the  whole  of  this  blasted  business!  "  he 
growled,  as  he  rubbed  his  shins.  "  Did  you  ever  see 
an  army  in  a  beastlier  fix?  But  why  do  I  ask  you 
that?  A  blasted  recruit  like  you  ain't  seen  any- 
thing." 

"  I  want  to  light  my  pipe — got  a  match?  " 

"  No — got  nothing  but  bruises  and  an  infernally 
empty  stomach.  What  the  darnation  did  he  run  us 
into  this  cursed  hole  for?  Tell  me  thatf  you  who 
know  everything." 

John  chuckled.  He  was  cross  and  hungry,  but 
it  is  always  soothing  to  find  a  man  who  is  in  a  worse 
temper  than  one's  self. 

"  Who  do  you  mean  by  '  he  '  ?  " 

"Uncle  Billy,  of  course — who  else?" 

The  man  on  the  other  side  of  the  log  began  to 
listen  attentively. 

"  You  arc  wrong  there,"  John  said.  "  It  is  not 
his  fault,  it  is  Joey  Hooker's." 

"  How  do  you  make  that  out?  " 
206 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  207 

"  You  know  where  we  are  ?  " 

"  Not  I — nor  care." 

"  If  there  were  any  way  of  getting  a  light,  I 
would  show  you  my  map." 

"Map?"  exclaimed  Hornher.  "  I  thought  Uncle 
Billy  had  'em  all." 

John  laughed. 

"  He  had,  but  I  have  scratched  out  a  new  one 
since." 

"  The  devil  you  have! "  muttered  Sherman  to 
himself. 

"  Last  night,"  John  said,  "  I  made  out  from  it 
that  we — I  mean  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland — were 
marching  upon  Dallas,  intending  to  join  McPher- 
son,  who  is  ahead,  to-night  or  to-morrow.  Joey 
Hooker,  who  was  in  advance,  split  his  corps  into  three 
divisions  for  convenience  of  marching.  The  first  of 
these  ran  into  a  force  of  reb  cavalry  which  were  firing 
a  bridge  on  Pumpkin  Vine  Creek — the  same  bridge 
we  crossed  this  afternoon.  The  rebs  were  driven  ofP, 
and  Hooker,  after  putting  out  the  blaze,  must  needs 
give  chase  with  one  division." 

"  Oh,  that  is  fighting  Joe  all  over,"  Hornber 
cried  with  an  oath. 

"  The  cavalry  retreated  toward  Marietta,  to  the 
right  of  Dallas,  and  one  division,  Geary's,  instead  of 
marching  on  to  Dallas,  stuck  to  the  rebs,  and  were 
hoping  to  chaw  them  up,  when  they  were  met  here  by 
infantry,  who  gave  them  blow  for  blow,  and  stopped 
the  fun.  I  had  been  sent  with  a  message  to  Geary 
when  up  came  Hooker  and  Sherman  himself,  and  I 
heard  Uncle  Billy  order  Hooker  to  go  straight  ahead 


208  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

— for  the  rebs  were  now  giving  way — and  secure  this 
position,  which  is  at  the  cross-road  they  call  '  New 
Hope/  the  mission  house  the  boys  spoke  of  last  night. 
If  Hooker  had  done  that,  we  should  be  in  a  far  better 
fix  than  we  are.  But  Joey  would  not  budge.  He 
had  an  obstinate  fit  on  and  waited  for  re-enforce- 
ments. I  went  to  fetch  them  and  rode  all  I  knew, 
but  before  they  arrived  the  enemy  had  increased  his 
force,  the  attack  failed,  and  here  we  are.  It  is  a  mess 
indeed." 

Hornber  laughed. 

"Johnny,  of  all  the  cusses  I  ever  struck,  you 
know  the  most.  If  Sherman  heard  ye,  he'd  give  you 
a  commission  to  keep  your  mouth  shut.  I  know  he 
would." 

"  As  I  never  open  my  mouth  to  any  but  you,  it  is 
rough  you  should  say  that,"  said  John  warmly. 

"  Well,  I'll  take  it  back,"  was  the  rejoinder. 
"  Now,  tell  me  how  we'll  get  out  of  this  mess." 

"  I  don't  rightly  know,"  John  replied  slowly.  "  I 
reckon  Sherman  will  try  to  take  the  cross-roads  yet. 
But  I  fear  the  rebs  are  likely  to  be  too  strong  for  us. 
If  that  turns  out  to  be  so,  we  must  wait  until  Mc- 
Pherson  can  get  round.  He  will  be  advancing  on 
Dallas  now,  and  have  to  turn  back.  That  he  will 
not  like." 

"  But  what  do  we  want  with  this  darned  '  New 
Hope,'  anyhow?  Hell-hole  would  be  a  better  name. 
Dallas  was  our  objective." 

"  No,  at  least  not  according  to  my  idea,  though 
Sherman  wants  the  rebs  to  think  so.  It  is  the  rail- 
road." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  209 

*'  What  for — supplies?  " 

"  That  is  it.  We  have  got  a  few  days'  rations  in 
the  wagons,  but  we  can't  hold  this  country  or  get 
through  it  unless  we  keep  the  rails  clear  behind  us 
to  bring  all  we  need.  At  present  the  rebs  have  them 
tight  from  Kingston — where  we  left  them  to  start 
for  Dallas — to  Marietta,  twenty-five  miles  southeast. 
Unless  we  force  this  cross-roads,  there  is  no  way  for 
the  army  to  get  to  the  railroad.  Now — we  must  get 
there,  or  retreat.  The  only  chance  is  that  when  Me- 
Pherson  comes  back  we  will  outflank  Johnston  here 
and  push  him  out.  If  McPherson  is  held  at  Dallas, 
we  will  have  to  see  another  way,  and  that  will  be  hard 
to  find — unless  the  struggle  here  compels  Johnston  to 
withdraw  from  Allatoona,  twelve  miles  north,  where 
he  controls  the  road  to  Kingston.  And  even  if  it 
does,  I  do  not  know  how  he  could  get  to  know  it." 
"  What  should  be  done  then.  General  Burletson  ?  " 
Hornber  yawned  until  his  jaw  nearly  cracked. 
He  was  very  sleepy,  yet  wanted  to  hear  more.  John 
did  not  answer. 

"  Tell  me,  now,"  the  sergeant  said,  waking  up, 
"  what  are  your  ideas  if  McPherson  does  not  come  at 
once?     I  want  to  know." 

"  If  I  have  any  notion,  it  is  worth  nothing." 
"  Quite  likely  it  ain't;  but  you  must  tell  it  to  me." 
"  You  want  sleep  more  than  my  ideas." 
"The  truth.     But   I   will   have   the  ideas   first. 
Come,  boy,  spit  'em  out." 

"  Well,"  said  John  at  last,  "  as  I  said,  if  we  do  not 
turn  Johnston  out  of  Allatoona  or  take  his  position 
here,  we  would  have  to  retreat  or  find  another  way 


210  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

of  securing  the  railroad.  I  think  we  ought  to  pros- 
pect around  the  railroad  where  the  rebs  hold  it,  and 
get  accurate  and  complete  information  of  their  move- 
ments. We  know  might}'  little  of  them,  it  seems 
to  me,  and  generally  find  they  know  everything 
about  us." 

"  Very  pretty  sentiments,"  grumbled  the  sergeant, 
"  only  I  seem  to  have  heard  'em  before.  How  to 
do  it?" 

"  Play  one  of  Jeb  Stuart's  pranks,  and  detail  a 
picked  body  of  men,  well  mounted,  to  take  a  curve 
clean  round  the  reb  armies  as  he  did  round  ours  in 
Virginia.  I  don't  know — but  it  seems  to  me  some- 
thing useful  might  come  of  that." 

Hornber  scratched  his  head. 

"  I  see  daylight  there,  John.  But  our  boys  would 
soon  be  captured  fooling  about  in  a  strange  country." 

"  That  might  happen,  but  if  they  were  smart  and 
could  ride  they  would  have  a  rare  chance  to  escape. 
I  should  make  every  man  carry  provisions  for  a  couple 
of  days,  and  give  orders  to  all  that  if  attacked  they 
were  to  scatter  and  return  in  couples  or  even  alone 
to  report.  If  only  one  came  back,  Sherman  might 
get  information  that  would  be  worth  a  good  deal  to 
him." 

"  You  go  and  tell  him  so,"  Hornber  rejoined  with 
a  dry  chuckle,  yawning  again.  "  You  are  a  gen- 
ius, Johnny;  you  should  l)e  a  general — I  said  so  first 
time  I  saw  ye — and  now  I'm  off  to  sleep  to  think  it 
over." 

He  curled  himself  up  against  the  log  and  was  soon 
snoring    with    deep    regularity.      John    thought    he 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  211 

would  follow  suit;  but  not  finding  his  position  com- 
fortable and  concluding  to  try  the  other  side,  looked 
over.  He  immediately  came  into  collision  with  some 
one. 

"  What  do  you  want  now?  "  said  a  voice  he  knew, 
which  made  him  jump'tiack  with  a  gasp. 

"  General— I "  . 

"  Did  not  know  I  was  there.  Perhaps  not;  but  I 
have  been  all  the  time." 

There  was  an  awful  pause.  John  was  so  shocked 
that  he  could  not  say  a  word;  there  was  indeed  noth- 
ing he  could  say. 

"  Burletson,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  General." 

"  I  thought  so.     Are  you  sleepy?  " 

"Not  now,  General." 

"  Then  answer  my  questions.  How  would  you  get 
cavalry,  even  a  scouting  party,  through  such  an  in- 
fernal country  as  this?  " 

Sherman's  tone  was  severely  contemptuous — per- 
haps designedly  so.     It  put  John  on  his  mettle. 

"  My  idea.  General,"  he  answered,  with  deference 
but  without  hesitation,  "  would  be,  not  to  send  more 
than  a  dozen  or  twenty  at  most.  We  couriers  are  do- 
ing nothing  else." 

"  I  know  a  courier  thinks  he  can  beat  creation. 
But  we  are  not  all  couriers.  Could  you  do  it  your- 
self? Answer  straight  now.  Would  you,  if  you  had 
a  handful  of  men,  undertake  to  wander  around  the 
enemy's  positions  and  pick  up  any  intelligence 
worth  anything?  Let  me  tell  you  this  before  you 
speak.     I  would  not  give  a  cent  for  the  lives  of  any 


212  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

men  who  fell  into  Johnston's  hands  just  now.  "Would 
you  chance  it?  " 

"  I  would,  indeed,  General." 

"  He  would — would  he  ?  "  Sherman  muttered  to 
himself.  "  Then  " — he  paused  to  weigh  the  thought 
in  his  mind  before,  with  characteristic  impetuosity, 
he  struck  the  nail  on  the  head — "  then,  by  G — d,  he 
shall! " 

"  Burletson,"  he  said  in  a  tone  from  which  all 
sarcasm  had  gone,  "  there  is  something  in  this  plan. 
I  will  give  you  the  credit,  whether  by  accident  or 
natural  ability,  of  having  stumbled  upon  a  sensible 
notion,  worth  putting  through.  Have  you  learned 
cavalry  drill  ?  " 

John  began  to  recover  his  spirits. 

«  Yes,  General." 

"  So.  Then  we  will  see.  Now,  let  me  have  the 
map  of  which  you  and  Hornber  robbed  me." 

By  the  time  the  sergeant  -wakened  from  his  slum- 
bers the  general  had  departed,  and  John  said  noth- 
ing about  his  presence  there.  Breakfast  was  the  first 
thing  to  find,  and  hardly  had  it  been  disposed  of 
when  the  order  came  for  attack,  and  the  work  of  the 
day  began.  The  fighting  lasted  until  night  without 
much  result,  the  position  of  the  Confederates  being 
as  strong  as  ever;  and  every  one  was  sulky  and  disap- 
pointed. John  alone  was  cheerful.  He  wondered 
what  Sherman  was  planning,  and  whether  it  would 
be  his  good  fortune  to  take  part  in  the  experiment. 
He  forgot  the  obligation  he  was  under  to  his  mother 
to  avoid  all  unnecessary  risk,  and  longed  for  the  inter- 
est and  excitement  of  such  dangerous  work.     Late  in 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  213 

the  night  a  courier  came  and  reported  to  his  comrades 
that  MePherson  was  hemmed  in  at  Dallas  and  could 
not  stir  a  man  to  help  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland. 
John  did  not  sleep  much  after  this. 

Next  morning  ea;:ly  summons  came  for  John 
from  the  commander-in-chief.  Sherman  was  at 
breakfast — dry  bread  and  cold  meat,  which  he  ate 
astride  of  a  wooden  keg,  and  washed  down  with  coffee 
drunk  from  a  tin  mug.  As  John  saluted,  the  gen- 
eral looked  at  him  very  keenly. 

"  Are  you  sound  in  body?  "  were  his  first  words. 
"No  wounds?" 

"  None,  General." 

"  Then  take  this  note  to  Colonel  Pantling,  of  Gen- 
eral Stoneman's  division  of  cavalry.  You  will  find  them 
on  the  left  wing,  in  front  of  General  Schofield's  corps. 
Return  here  as  soon  as  possible.     Read  the  note." 

He  handed  him  the  letter  and  went  on  with  his 
breakfast,  watching  John's  face  out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye.  The  note  was  brief  and  very  much  to  the 
point,  as  all  Sherman's  letters  were. 

"  To  Colonel  Pantling,  U.  S.  Cavalry. 

"  Colonel:  Please  supply  the  bearer,  my  courier, 
John  Burletson,  with  ten  of  your  smartest  troopers. 
He  had  better  pick  them.  All  must  be  well  mounted 
and  provided  with  provisions  and  ammunition  for  a 
week.  They  will  be  under  Burletson's  command.  I 
want  the  men  for  special  duty,  and  have  ordered  him 
to  return  with  them  for  my  personal  inspection  this 
afternoon.  William  T.  Sherman, 

" Major  General  Commanding" 


CHAPTEE   XIX. 

When  Sherman's  couriers  heard  the  news  about 
John,  they  were  too  much  surprised  even  to  swear. 
When  they  recovered,  the  criticisms  of  the  gener- 
al's choice  were  extremely  vigorous,  every  one  proph- 
esying failure,  even  Sergeant  Hornber,  though  he  be- 
gan by  defending  his  friend  against  the  insinuation 
of  political  favouritism. 

"  You  lie! "  he  said,  with  an  oath;  "  the  boy  is 
straight,  a  damned  sight  straighter  than  any  one 
here.  Eaw?  That  may  be,  but  not  one  of  you  has 
ever  worked  harder  or  better.  He  can  ride,  and  I 
will  bet  that  he  can  fight;  while  for  head-piece  he'll 
beat  the  crowd.  No — that  boy  will  plan  out  his  ideas 
like  a  map,  an'  he'll  do  his  level  best,  but  he'll  fail  at 
last.  It  is  not  in  him  to  take  hold  of  men.  He  won't 
have  an  idea  of  commanding;  he  can't,  for  he's  never 
done  it.  He  was  not  brought  up  to  it.  I  don't  go 
much  on  officers,  as  you  all  know;  but  a  real  one, 
a  good  West  Point  man — oh,  you  may  yell,"  as  a  gen- 
eral howl  of  dissent  greeted  the  word;  "  I  know 
what  I  am  saying,  and  you  don't.  I  say  a  good  West 
Pointer,  such  as  Uncle  Billy  or  Grant — or,  be  darned 
to  'em,  like  those  Southerners,  Lee,  and  Jackson,  and 
Joe  Johnston — there's  a  something  that  makes  a  cuss 
214 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  215 

obey  and  follow  blind.  West  Pointers  are  trained  to 
it.  We  ain't.  Take  John.  He's  patient  and  gentle 
— obstinate  too  in  his  way;  but  Stoneman's  troopers, 
even  ten  of  'em,  will  want  more  than  that.  Every 
last  one  will  think  he  knows  more  than  Johnny. 
Each  will  play  his  own  game,  and  the  whole  bunch 
be  taken  prisoners  by  the  rebs.    That's  my  opinion." 

The  rest  were  unanimous  that  the  party  would 
not  get  to  work  at  all. 

"  I  know  Pantling,"  said  one.  "  He's  an  ugly 
brute.  If  he  parts  with  a  trooper,  much  less  ten,  I'll 
eat  my  hat;  he'll  send  the  boy  back  to  Sherman 
quicker  than  he  went.  You'll  see.  Then  Uncle 
Billy  will  rar'  round  and  tell  John  to  quit.  I  was 
under  Pantling  once;  he'll  bully-rag  and  cuss  John 
till  he'll  give  his  life  to  clear  out  of  range  of  the 
colonel's  tongue.    Pshaw!  he'll  not  be  in  it." 

John,  if  he  had  been  given  leisure  to  think  about 
himself,  would  probably  have  agreed  in  the  main 
with  Horuber.  But  he  had  no  time  to  think.  As  he 
rode  to  General  Stoneman's  lines,  he  thought  ojily 
of  the  work  before  him;  and  wondered  whether  Sher- 
man would  leave  it  to  his  discretion  where  he  went, 
or  work  out  a  route  for  him.  The  men  must  be  care- 
fully selected,  that  was  important;  equally  so  was  the 
quality  and  condition  of  their  horses.  As  for  provi- 
sions, with  all  respect  to  the  general,  John  determined 
that  a  supply  for  two  days  would  be  sufficient.  They 
ought  to  ride  as  light  as  possible.  Also  they  must 
be  disguised,  so  that,  if  necessary,  they  would  pass 
the  enemy's  outposts  without  attracting  attention, 
and  purchase  a  meal  now  and  then  from  farms  or 


216  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

even  outlying  houses  of  small  towns  and  villages,  and 
pick  up  news.  All  these  things  and  more  passed 
through  John's  mind  before  he  reached  Colonel  Pant- 
ling's  tent  and  presented  his  letter  to  an  orderly 
there.  As  Hornber  said,  "  he  could  plan  his  ideas 
out  like  a  map."    He  had  now  to  execute  them. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Pantling  was  smoking  a 
choice  cigar  when  the  note  from  General  Sherman 
reached  his  hands.  There  were  not  many  officers  in 
the  Atlanta  campaign  who  indulged  themselves  in 
this  manner  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning;  but  the 
cavalry  had  not  much  to  do  just  now,  and  Colonel 
Pantling  partook  freely  at  all  times  of  the  good  things 
of  life.  He  was  a  large  and  heavy  man,  with  a  pull'y 
face;  his  eyes  were  bloodshot,  with  inflamed  lids,  his 
cheeks  flabby,  his  nose  extremely  red,  and,  worst  sign 
of  all,  his  hand  shook  all  the  time  he  was  reading 
Sherman's  note.  His  face,  however,  was  not  with- 
out good  points;  his  forehead  was  square;  he  had 
a  heavy  fighting  chin,  while  a  pair  of  thick,  black 
eyebrows  gave  an  impressiveness  to  eyes  that  held 
within  them  a  tigerish  fierceness  not  pleasant  to 
meet.  Drinker  the  colonel  might  be;  violent  in 
temper  and  sensual  in  disposition;  but  he  was  neither 
a  fool  nor  a  coward,  and  no  man  who  could  avoid  it 
ever  "  crossed  his  line  of  fire." 

"  Ten  of  my  smartest  men,"  he  muttered,  "  to  be 
commanded  by — what?  a  courier!  By  Gad,  Sher- 
man is  clean  off  the  rails — mad  or  drunk,  or  both." 

He  looked  at  the  orderly. 

"  Send  that  courier  here." 

When  Colonel  Pantling  saw  John's  quiet  face  he 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  217 

smiled  grimly  beneath  his  mustache.  John  did  not 
see  the  smile,  but  in  the  colonel's  eyes  there  was  an 
expression  he  did  not  like. 

"Who  are  you?"    . 

"  John  Burletson,  courier  to  General  Sherman." 

*'  Do  you  know  the  contents  of  this  letter?  " 

"  The  general  gave  it  to  me  to  read,  Colonel." 

"In  that  case/'  muttered  Pantling  to  himself, 
"  there  can  be  no  doubt.     He  is  quite  mad." 

Aloud  he  said  with  slow,  contemptuous  emphasis, 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  " 

"  Obey  orders,  Colonel." 

"il/y  orders — yes.  Wliy,  the  thing  is  absurd. 
My  boys  would  eat  a  man  like  you.  Anyway,  I 
cannot  spare  them  at  present — not  one.  You  may 
go." 

The  colonel  put  the  letter  into  his  pocket,  nodded 
carelessly,  and  took  up  a  newspaper  he  had  been  read- 
ing. 

John  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  Such  a  recep- 
tion as  this  to  an  order  from  the  commander-in- 
chief  had  not  entered  his  head.  For  a  moment  he 
stood  speechless,  wondering  if  it  were  a  practical  joke. 

"  What  answer  am  I  to  take  to  General  Sherman, 
Colonel?" 

Colonel  Pantling  turned  upon  him. 

"  You  here  still?  If  you  don't  leave  my  tent 
sharp,  my  man,  you  will  be  under  arrest  in  less  than 
a  minute! " 

John  saluted  respectfully. 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me,  Colonel, 
how  I  am  to  get  the  boys?    It  will  take  all  my  time  to 


218  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

complete  my  arrangements  and  report  to  the  com- 
mander-in-chief hefore  sundown.  I  would  like  to 
start  at  once." 

The  colonel  sprang  up  with  an  oath,  and  took 
a  step  toward  John  as  though  he  would  have  struck 
him. 

John  did  not  move  an  inch. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  inconvenience  you  any,  sir,"  he 
went  on  in  his  quietest  tone,  "  but  I  am  bound  to  see 
this  through." 

Colonel  Pantling  glared  at  him  for  a  minute  or 
two  without  speaking,  then  suddenly  laughed. 

"  Curse  you,  but  you  have  sand  anyway.  There 
are  not  many  men  who  could  face  me  so." 

He  threw  away  his  cigar  and  buckled  on  his 
sword. 

"  I  am  going  to  inspect  the  men  myself,"  he  said, 
frowning  again.  "  Come  with  me.  As  to  your  pick- 
ing any,  I  will  see  you  damned  first! " 

He  spoke  with  a  savage  aggressiveness  that  would 
have  goaded  a  quick-tempered  man  to  a  retort;  but 
John  did  not  speak,  standing  aside  for  the  colonel 
to  pass  first  from  the  tent.  Then  he  swung  himself 
into  the  saddle  and  waited  while  Pantling  gave  an 
order  to  one  of  his  subalterns.  Presently  a  company 
of  troopers,  all  well  mounted,  smart,  soldierly  men, 
formed  up  before  their  commander. 

"  Boys,  I  have  received  a  message  from  General 
Sherman  asking  for  ten  of  you  for  some  expedition — • 
to  be  under  command  of  this  courier.  I  never  disre- 
gard the  wishes  of  my  superiors,  so  you  shall  hear 
what  the  man  has  to  say. — Now,"  turning  to  John, 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  219 

*'  tell  the  men  all  you  know,  and  see  what  they  will 
answer." 

"  I  have  your  permission.  Colonel,  to  address 
them?" 

"  If  they  will  listen." 

At  this  some  of  the  men  langhed,  while  others 
made  remarks  upon  John's  personal  appearance. 
But  he  did  not  hear  them;  he  was  not  thinking  of 
himself;  his  mind  was  full  of  what  he  had  been  sent 
to  do,  and  this  took  away  all  nervousness,  all  unreadi- 
ness of  speech,  even  the  irritation  caused  by  the  colo- 
nel's manner.  With  erect  mien  and  stern  face,  John 
rode  up  to  the  men  who  were  laughing  at  him  and 
looked  down  the  line  with  an  observant,  critical  eye. 

"  Your  colonel  has  told  you  why  I  am  here.  I 
understand  you  are  the  smartest  men  in  this  regi- 
ment. I  hope  so,  for  the  general  has  no  use  for  any 
but  the  best.  I  want  ten  of  you  on  the  best  horses 
you  can  find.  Our  business  will  be  to  ride  round 
Johnston's  army  as  Jeb  Stuart  rode  round  ours  in 
Virginia.  It  will  be  work  of  the  toughest  kind,  night 
work  mostly,  and  we  shall  be  in  danger  all  the  while. 
If  the  rebs  get  upon  our  track  we  shall  have  the 
tightest  kind  of  a  time  and  have  to  race  them  for  life. 
If  we  fail  to  get  away  there  will  be  no  quarter;  but  if 
we  are  successful  it  is  likely  that  the  army  will  have 
cause  to  be  grateful  to  you.  Our  orders  will  come  di- 
rect from  the  general  himself.  He  will  inspect  every 
man  I  bring  away  with  me,  and  you  know  what  that 
means  if  you  do  your  duty." 

He  paused  to  mark  the  effect  of  his  words.  The 
men  were  silent.     There  were  no  more  personal  re- 


220  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

marks  or  laughter.  Whatever  this  man  might  be  to 
look  at,  he  spoke  the  truth,  he  was  in  earnest,  and  he 
was  not  afraid  of  men. 

"  One  thing  more.  The  colonel  has  said  I  am  to 
command.  That  is  true,  and  if  the  raid  is  a  failure 
I  shall  get  the  blame;  while  if  it  succeeds,  each  of 
you  will  have  his  share  of  praise  and  profit.  Now, 
tell  me,  how  many  of  you  will  pull  this  through  with 
me?  " 

He  rode  slowly  down  the  line,  and  Colonel  Pant- 
ling,  who  was  expecting  a  roar  of  laughter,  was 
startled  by  a  rousing  cheer  and  a  shout  that  was  un- 
mistakable. 

John  wheeled  and  cantered  up  to  him. 

"  With  your  permission,  Colonel,  I  will  pick  my 
men  from  this  company.  More  than  half  have  vol- 
unteered." 

"Why  don't  you  take  them  all,  curse  you!  "  was 
the  reply,  the  colonel  now  beginning  to  lose  his  tem- 
per entirely.  "Take  the  regiment!  Take  me!  If 
once  they  let  such  roughs  as  you  get  into  the  army,  it 
is  time  for  us  to  leave." 

John  saluted,  calm  and  imperturbable. 

"  I  understand  that  I  have  your  jjermission." 

"  Yes!  "  roared  the  colonel,  holding  down  his  rage 
by  main  force  as  he  saw  that  any  further  display  of  it 
would  make  him  ridiculous.  Pick  them,  and  be 
d— d!" 

John  needed  no  second  bidding.  With  a  matter- 
of-fact  air  that  would  have  astounded  Sergeant  Ilorn- 
ber,  he  ordered  the  men  to  file  past  him,  making  them 
do  so  three  times  before  he  made  his  choice.     An  in- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  221 

terview  with  the  quartermaster  followed,  and  a  mi- 
nute examination  of  kits,  arms,  and  horses.  Here 
John  proved  very  hardrto  please,  his  quickness  in  de- 
tecting defects  and  good  points  strengthening  his 
position  with  his  men  in  a  way  that  nothing  else 
could  have  done. 

All  this  took  time,  and  it  was  getting  late  before 
he  was  able  to  report  himself  to  the  general.  Sher- 
man was  engaged,  and  sent  word  that  the  men  were 
to  come  for  inspection  in  an  hour.  This  interval 
John  spent  with  his  old  companions,  who  compli- 
mented him  upon  the  smart  appearance  of  his  troop- 
ers and  gave  him  warm  congratulations.  Hornber 
alone  made  no  remark,  but  afterward,  when  alone 
with  John,  he  said  in  his  most  abrupt  tone: 

''  Boy,  the  way  you  have  acted  gets  right  away 
with  me.  I  never  thought  to  see  a  man  change  as 
you  have  since  this  morning.  You'll  command  a 
regiment  before  long,  or  I'm  a  liar." 

"  Just  about  what  you  must  be,  I  reckon,"  John 
retorted  without  smiling.  Eeaction  had  come 
after  the  excitement,  and  he  felt  tired  and  out  of 
sorts. 

"  I  was  this  morning,"  Hornber  said  with  a  sol- 
emn shake  of  the  head;  "  I  ain't  now." 

"  Simple  foolishness.     What  are  ten  men?  " 

"  Don't  matter.  They  want  handling,  specially 
men  from  the  cavalry.  Now,  mark  me,  this  is  the 
thin  edge  of  the  wedge,  as  they  say." 

"  To  another  world,"  John  interrupted.  "  I 
have  the  feeling  all  through  me  that  I  shall  never  get 
out  of  it  alive,  and  that  will  mean  that  I  have  broken 
15 


222  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

my  word.  My  God!  Hornber,  I  should  never  have 
come  South  at  all." 

The  sergeant  gasped. 

"Eh!  what?  you  croaking!  You  I  Blame  it  all, 
Johnny,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

John's  face  worked,  and  he  clinched  his  hands. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  my  mother,  old  friend.  'Tis 
not  myself.  God  knows  my  life  is  not  worth  much 
to  me.  But  I  swore  that  while  she  lived  I  would  keep 
away  from  this.  For  the  sake  of  my — friend  and 
her  friend  I  came  South  to  try  and  get  a  man  out  of 
Santanelle  prison.  I  knew  I  must  take  risks  for  that. 
But  this  is  different.  It  is  another  line  altogether. 
I  ought  to  have  refused  to  go;  but  I  did  not  think, 
when  Sherman  spoke.  He  gave  me  no  warning. 
Never  said  a  word  until  he  put  the  letter  into  my 
hand.    It  is  too  late  to  step  back  now." 

"  Too  late! "  roared  Ilornber,  finding  speech  at 
last.  "  You  would  deserve  to  be  hanged  by  the  neck 
if  you  thought  of  such  a  thing.  What  are  you  made 
of,  anyhow  ?  The  chance  that  has  rolled  to  your  feet, 
not  a  private  in  the  whole  army  but  would  sell  his 
soul  to  buy.  Carry  this  through  in  the  way  I  be- 
lieve now,  s'elp  me,  that  you  will,  and  you  are  bound 
to  get  on.  Once  Uncle  Billy  grips  a  man,  he  stays 
right  by  him.  He  will  never  fail  to  give  you  an  op- 
portunity. Your  fortune  in  the  army  has  been  made 
to-day  and  before  you've  served  three  months,  and 
yet  you  croak.     Are  you  all  there  ?  " 

John  smiled. 

"  Don't  worry.  I  have  gone  too  far  to  draw  out 
again,  I  know,  and  I  will  do  my  best.     I  was  wrong 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN    STEEL.  223 

to  be  in  it,  though;  I  did  not  join  the  army,  friend,  to 
get  promotion.  But  time  is  up.  I  shall  not  see  you 
again,  as  we  shall  start'at  moonrise." 

They  shook  hands. 

"  Where  do  you  strike  for  first?  " 

John  laughed. 

"  That's  for  the  rebs  to  discover,  Sergeant,  if 
they  can." 


CHAPTER    XX. 

The  failure  of  General  Hooker  to  carry  the  posi- 
tion at  the  "  Xew  Hope  "  cross-roads  hef  ore  the  enemy 
occupied  it  in  force  placed  the  Union  army  in  an  awk- 
ward position.  It  was  the  critical  point  of  the  cam- 
paign— no  one  really  knew  how  much  so  but  Sher- 
man; yet  from  the  general  to  the  rank  and  file  there 
was  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  which  a  few  days  more  of 
desultory  marching  and  countermarching,  fighting 
through  deep  forests  under  torrents  of  rain,  and  ankle 
deep  in  mud  and  mire  to  meet  a  foe  who  gave  way  in 
one  place  only  to  break  out"  in  another — would  have 
turned  into  discouragement  and  worse.  Southern 
writers  have  naturally  laid  stress  upon  the  size  of 
Sherman's  army,  and  attributed  his  subsequent  suc- 
cess to  that  fact,  more  than  to  the  skill  of  its  com- 
mander or  the  qiuility  of  the  troops.  But  a  very  large 
force  in  an  extremely  difficult  country  is  a  doiibtful 
blessing,  and  from  the  commissariat  point  of  view  it 
is  the  reverse. 

This  fact  was  painfully  obvious  to  Sherman  the 
day  after  he  listened  to  John  summing  up  the  weak- 
ness of  the  position  to  Hornber  on  the  23d  of  May. 
He  had  abandoned  for  the  time  being  his  base  of  sup- 
plies, trusting  that  Johnston,  finding  his  flank  turned, 
224 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  225 

would  abandon  the  strong  position  he  held  across  the 
railroad,  and  fall  back,  leaving  the  line  clear.  On 
the  27th,  after  four  d%s'  fighting,  he  found  that  a 
force  too  strong  to  be  dislodged  without  serious  loss 
lay  directly  in  the  way  of  his  main  army,  the  Army  of 
the  Cumberland;  that  McPherson,  whom  he  had  or- 
dered to  his  assistance,  was  several  miles  away  to  the 
east,  confronted  by  a  Confederate  force  at  Dallas; 
and  that  Scholield,  to  the  left,  was  separated  from  the 
main  army  by  three  miles  of  very  difficult  country. 
The  situation  was  critical.  The  army  was  dispersed 
in  three  fractions,  any  one  of  which  might  be  sudden- 
ly assailed  by  the  Confederates  in  full  strength;  the 
railway  also  was  exposed  and  unguarded,  and  accu- 
rate information  of  the  enemy's  movements  and 
strength  and  disi^ositions  was  of  absolutely  vital  im- 
portance. Hornber  had  good  reason  to  congratulate 
John  upon  the  possibilities  which  his  little  expedition 
contained.  It  was  a  nervous  moment  when  the  gen- 
eral walked  out  to  look  at  the  men,  and  John  did 
not  breathe  freely  until  the  inspection  had  been  con- 
cluded with  a  few  blunt  words  of  encouragement  that 
were  worth  more  than  many  speeches  from  any  other 
man.  "When  it  was  over,  the  general  took  John  into 
his  tent,  where  a  map  was  spread. 

"  You  show  me,"  said  Sherman,  "  just  where  we 
are  on  that." 

John  did  so. 

"  Now  take  these  compasses.  Where  would  you 
strike  first  if  left  to  your  own  idea?  " 

John  bent  over  the  map  and  thought  for  a  min- 
ute, Sherman  noticing  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  that 


226  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

tlie  request — unusual,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  from 
a  commander-in-chief  to  a  private — was  taken  by  this 
man  quite  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"  I  should  make  the  railroad,  General,  right  east 
here  between  Ackworth  and  Kingston."  He  pointed 
to  Ackworth  as  he  spoke,  a  small  town  ten  miles  away. 

"Why  so?"  Sherman  said  in  a  gruff,  sceptical 
tone.  "  Why  not  Marietta  ten  miles  south,  the  south- 
ernmost point,  as  far  as  we  know,  that  Johnston 
holds?  I  expect  you  to  ride  round  the  whole  army, 
Ackworth  is  about  the  centre." 

"  I  know  that,"  John  said,  forgetting  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  argument  whom  he  was  addressing,  "  but 
I  take  it  you  will  want  first  of  all  to  find  out 
what  he  is  doing  on  the  railroad  line  from  here  to 
Kingston.  My  intention  was  to  report  to  you  after 
I  had  prospected  the  line  from  Ackworth  northward, 
then  ride  round  Kenesaw,  Marietta,  and  Dallas.  But 
to  the  north  first." 

Sherman  nodded. 

"  You  have  the  right  notion.  I  will  leave  you  to 
work  it  out.  What  I  require  is  a  clear  and  correct 
idea  where  Johnston  lies;  the  number  of  men  he  has 
in  each  place;  whether  he  shows  any  signs  of  threaten- 
ing the  railroad  northward;  and  as  much  information 
concerning  his  movements  as  you  can  get  together. 
I  have  a  good  foundation  to  guess  on,  as  we  stand, 
but  guess-work  will  not  do  just  now.  In  short,  your 
duty  is  to  find  the  enemy  and  count  him;  but  don't 
let  him  find  you.  Send  back  a  message  by  a  trusty 
man,  when  you  have  found  out  about  the  railroad, 
and  report  yourself  in  person  in  forty-eight  hours. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  227 

Between  then  and  now,  do  what  you  like;  go  where 
you  like.    I  will  trust  you,  Burletson." 

Sherman  spoke  with  the  careful  distinctness  of 
one  who  measures  evety  word  and  expects  it  to  be 
remembered.  At  the.  end,  without  unbending  the 
customary  sternness  of  his  face,  he  held  out  his  hand. 
John  took  it  very  respectfully. 

"  I  will  do  all  that  is  in  me,  General,"  he  said 
earnestly,  "  to  bring  back  what  you  need." 

"  So.     When  do  you  start?  " 

"  I  reckoned  we  should  have  light  enough  by  two 
o'clock.     The  moon  rises  an  hour  before." 

"  You  have  food?  " 

"  For  two  days.  General,  and  a  blanket  apiece. 
We  have  also  gray  overcoats  and  flap  hats." 

"  I  have  no  more  to  say,  then." 

John  walked  slowly  back  to  his  men.  They  were 
asleep,  black  motionless  figures  by  a  dying  fire.  He 
pulled  the  embers  together  and  roused  a  blaze;  stud- 
ied the  map  Sherman  had  given  him,  then  rolled  him- 
self in  his  blanket  and  slept  also.  He  woke  at  one 
o'clock,  roused  his  men  and  made  them  eat  a  meal  of 
bread  and  coffee.  By  two  o'clock  they  were  on  their 
way,  riding  by  the  stars.  It  was  hard  riding,  for, 
though  the  rain  had  ceased  and  the  sky  was  clear,  the 
ground  was  soft  and  treacherous,  their  way  lying  over 
rough  hills  of  gravelly  soil  into  which  their  horses 
sank  deeply.  John  was  glad,  however,  to  get  over 
this  exposed  ground  by  night,  and  pushed  on  steadily, 
though  at  a  gentle  pace.  When  day  dawned  they 
had  crossed  the  railway  and  found  cover  in  the  skirts 
of  some  forest  land  to  the  east  of  the  road.     Through 


228  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

the  trees,  here,  in  a  northerly  direction,  John  deter- 
mined that  their  course  should  lie,  but  after  the  night 
ride  they  must  eat  and  the  horses  rest.  On  their  left, 
toward  the  railway,  was  a  rail  fence  inclosing  a  field 
of  corn,  and  farther  away  among  the  trees  curled  a 
wreath  of  smoke.  John  called  a  halt  and  held  a 
council  of  war.  After  a  careful  consideration  of  his 
position  he  had  resolved  to  consult  his  men  before 
taking  any  important  step,  reserving  the  right  to  de- 
cide every  question  himself.  The  point  now  was, 
whether  it  would  be  wise  to  seek  information  at  the 
homestead  and  perhaps  get  a  meal  there,  or  to  find 
their  way  by  compass  and  map  and  observation. 
John  himself  suggested  the  former  plan,  and  was 
flatly  opposed  by  the  spokesman  of  the  men,  Bob 
Spenniker.  Spenniker  was  a  little  slip  of  a  man,  not 
much  over  five  feet  high;  he  had  black,  beady  eyes 
which  were  never  still  for  two  consecutive  moments; 
a  lean,  sinewy  body,  a  brown  and  wrinkled  face,  and  a 
head  as  round  as  an  apple,  covered  with  stiff  black 
hair.  He  was  called  "  the  rat,"  and  well  did  he  de- 
serve the  name.  His  morals  were  bad,  and  his  lan- 
guage worse;  but  for  endurance,  activity,  quick  wit 
and  courage,  there  was  hardly  his  equal  in  the  regi- 
ment. 

"  That  is  wrong,"  was  his  answer  to  John's  pro- 
posal. "  We'll  be  found  out.  Do  you  think  you 
look  like  a  Southerner?  Do  I — or  any  of  us?  Not 
a  little  bit.  Let's  trust  to  our  own  ears  and  eyes,  and 
leave  the  farms  round  here  alone.  That's  my  advice. 
They'll  have  us  else.  I'll  bet  you  all  the  whisky  ever 
I  hope  to  drink.    You  don't  know — I  do." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  229 

He  nodded  with  the  calm  assurance  of  superi- 
or wisdom,  and  the  men,  expecting  a  meek  assent 
from  their  leader,  winked  at  one  another.  But  John 
gave  them  no  satisfaction.  He  asked  for  more 
opinions,  and,  receiving  none,  said  to  Bob  Spen- 
niker: 

"  ^Ye  differ.  I  think  it  is  worth  while  getting  to 
talk  with  folk  round  here.  There  is  much  to  learn 
from  a  gossiping  woman,  whatever  her  feelings  may 
be.  She  may  let  out  more  than  she  knows.  Halt 
here,  and  whistle  if  there  is  any  danger.  I  will  go 
on  alone.'' 

He  spurred  away  briskly,  making  close  observ- 
ance of  the  farm  and  buildings  as  he  went.  They 
were  in  better  condition  than  many  he  had  seen,  and 
the  appearance  of  the  woman  who  opened  the  door  at 
his  call,  though  she  was  plainly  dressed,  was  not  that 
of  a  small  farmer's  wife. 

John  raised  his  hat. 

"  Good-morning,  ma'am." 

"  Morning,"  she  answered  with  expressionless 
eyes.     "What  may  your  business  be?" 

"  I  am  a  courier.  Can  you  tell  me  how  to  strike 
the  nearest  way  to  Allatoona." 

She  pointed  northward. 

"  A  track  to  the  right  of  those  trees  runs  into  a 
road  that  will  lead  you  there." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said.  Then,  in  a  careless  tone: 
"  Happen  you  may  tell  me  something  I  want  to  know. 
I  am  hunting  for  General  Johnston.  Will  I  find  him 
at  Allatoona?" 

The  woman  stared  hard  at  her  questioner.     John 


230  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

had  expected  that  she  would  show  surprise,  even 
amusement,  at  such  a  question.  But  there  was  no 
surprise  in  that  face — a  shrewd,  strong  face  he 
thought,  with  a  lurking  suspicion  in  it. 

"  The  general  is  there  like  enough,"  she  said, 
slowly;  "  it  is  hard  telling,  for  he's  everywhere  and 
anywhere,  just  where  he's  needed  most.  What  d'ye 
want  with  him?  " 

John  tapped  his  breast  pocket  significantly. 

"  I  have  my  instructions." 

"  Who  may  you  be  from?  " 

"  General  Hardee,  down  south." 

The  woman  gave  an  intelligent  nod,  and  as  John- 
turned  to  go,  called  after  him. 

"Say,  Courier,  have  you  breakfasted?" 

"  Why,  no." 

"  Come  in,  then,  and  have  a  bit.  'Tain't  often 
we  around  here  get  a  soldier  so  civil  spoke  as  you. 
Get  ye  down." 

There  was  a  marked  change  in  her  manner  now; 
it  was  kindliness  itself.  John  considered  an  in- 
stant. 

"  That  is  very  amiable  of  you,  ma'am,  but  there 
are  ten  boys  with  me.  If  you  have  enough  for  all,  I 
can  pay;  but  I  could  not  leave  them  out." 

"  If  their  manners  are  as  clever  as  yours,  young 
man,  we'll  not  ask  for  money.  If  you-uns  keep 
Sherman  out,  we-uns  will  feed  ye  and  be  glad  to 
do  it." 

John  galloped  back  to  the  boys. 

"  Trapped!  "  said  Bob  Spennikcr.  "  Bet  you  five 
dollars  down,  boss — now!  " 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL,  231 

"  Stay  here  alone,  then/'  retorted  John  sharply, 
"  if  it  scares  you.  Th«  rest  will  follow  with  me. — 
Come,  boys." 

They  followed  him,  and  Bob  Spenniker  led  the 
way.  They  tied  their  horses  to  a  fence  near  the 
front  door,  and  were  presently  eating  fried  hominy 
cakes  and  bacon  and  beans,  and  quaffing  buttermilk, 
with  great  satisfaction.  There  were  no  men  to  be 
seen,  a  fact  John  should  have  noticed.  Bob  saw  it 
at  once.  The  only  people  they  could  see  were  the 
woman  who  had  invited  them,  and  a  girl  of  sixteen; 
a  pretty  and  graceful  damsel,  who  was  all  smiles  and 
attention,  and  received  more  than  one  compliment 
from  the  men,  though  Bob,  whose  eyes  were  in  a 
dozen  different  directions  at  once,  gazed  at  her  with 
intense  suspicion.  John  did  not  pay  much  attention 
to  the  girl.  He  was  kept  busy  with  his  hostess,  par- 
rying certain  home  questions  of  hers  and  trying  to  get 
a  direct  answer  to  carefully  put  queries  of  his  own. 
This  he  found  difficult  until  he  put  one  about  her 
husband. 

"  No,  my  man  ain't  listed — the  same  as  most,"  she 
said.  "  He  makes  himself  of  use  to  the  general, 
scouting  and  such-like.  We  know  General  Johnston 
well — God  bless  his  face!  Any  of  your  boys  ever  see 
him?  "  looking  round  at  them. 

"  Not  so,"  John  answered  for  the  rest.  "  We've 
mostly  served  in  Virginny.  When  will  your  good 
man  be  back,  ma'am?  I  would  like  to  have  a  word 
with  him." 

"  That  no  soul  can  tell,"  she  replied.  "  He's  with 
the  general  now,  somewhere,  as  he  is  most  always 


232  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN   STEEL. 

these  times. — Jean,  my  daughter,  more  hominy  cakes. 
Quick,  gell." 

Tiie  familiar  name  made  John  start,  and  he  looked 
at  the  girl  with  interest,  tender  thoughts  of  home  in 
his  heart.  The  sound  of  a  hoarse  chuckle  roused  him 
from  his  reverie,  and  he  beheld  Bob  Spenniker  cough- 
ing violently. 

"  Hominy's  too  much  for  me,"  the  little  man  said, 
as  John  looked  up.  "  I  put  in  more  than  the  ma- 
chine would  hold,  and  nearly  bust." 

He  finished  with  a  peculiar  chuckle,  and  looked 
out  of  the  window.  John,  following  his  eyes,  saw  a 
body  of  horsemen  in  the  distance.  There  was  still 
time  to  get  away.  John  looked  round  at  his  men, 
rose  slowly — they  doing  the  same — and  went  to  the 
window. 

"Who  is  coming  there?"  he  said  to  the  woman. 
"  Do  you  know?  " 

He  noticed  that  she  was"  eyeing  him  with  great 
sharpness,  and  Bob's  suspicion  struck  him  forcibly. 

"  Ay.  It's  the  man  you  want  to  see — General 
Joseph  Johnston  and  his  staff.  I  know,  for  my  hus- 
band is  with  them." 

The  men  drew  long  breaths,  but  John  did  not 
stir. 

"  We  are  in  luck,  then,"  was  all  he  said.  "  Boys, 
we  must  move  out,  for  I  guess  the  general  is  coming 
here. — What  do  I  owe  you,  ma'am?" 

He  took  out  his  purse  so  leisurely  that  Bob  Spen- 
niker could  have  knocked  him  down.  Every  mo- 
ment of  delay  made  escape  more  difficult.  It  was 
nigh  impossible  now. 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  233 

"  I  tell  you  I  take  naught,"  the  woman  said.  "  If 
you  are  friends,  you  are' welcome  to  all.  If  enemies," 
she  paused  an  instant  and  looked  maliciously  at  Bob, 
"  I'll  he  paid  later  on." 

John  laughed  so  naturally  that  his  men  stared. 

"  We  have  to  thank  you,  then,  for  a  rare  good 
breakfast,  and  for  something  better  still.  General 
Johnston  is  the  man  I  most  want  to  see. — Come,  boys, 
smartly." 

He  strode  out  with  steady  step,  not  quickening  it 
in  the  least,  even  outside.  As  the  men  prepared  to 
mount,  he  said,  in  a  low  voice: 

"  I  am  going  to  interview  the  general.  You  must 
stay  still  and  keep  together.  If  we  have  to  bolt, 
strike  southwest.  I  do  not  think  it  need  come  to 
that.  Remember,  if  any  officer  speaks  to  you,  we  are 
from  Hardee's  army.  Don't  say  a  word  more  than 
you  can  help." 

"  Right,"  answered  Bob  for  the  rest.  "  But 
you've  clean  gone  out  of  your  reckoning.  We'll  be 
corralled,  sure." 

"Why?" 

"  She'll  do  it,"  pointing  with  his  thumb  at  the 
farm.  "  She  looks  us  right  through.  She'll  tell 
them  all  she  knows." 

"  We  must  chance  that.  Ride  forward  now  to 
meet  the  staff.  Halt  when  I  give  the  word. 
March!  " 

"  Well,  I'm  darned,"  muttered  Bob  to  himself, 
half  aloiid.  "  Pie's  going  to  face  a  reb  general,  bold 
as  a  skunk.  I'd  rather  be  shot  first.  Yet  I  bet 
I'd " 


234  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"Silence!"  said  John  sharply;  "keep  your 
thoughts  to  yourself.     Here  they  come." 

An  officer  of  the  staiT  galloped  up.     John  saluted. 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  Scouts — from  General  Hardee." 

"  Hand  me  your  papers." 

"  I  have  none." 

"How's  that?" 

"  We  were  sent  to  reconnoitre  Sherman's  army, 
and  that  we've  done;  but  last  night  we  ran  too  near 
one  of  his  outposts,  and  had  to  get  clear  the  best  way 
we  could.  We  lost  our  bearings,  and  stopped  at  this 
farm  to  inquire." 

"  You  must  report  to  General  Johnston  at  once." 

He  wheeled,  and  they  rode  together  into  the  gen- 
eral's presence.  So  far  all  seemed  safe.  The  officer 
suspected  nothing,  though  the  request  for  papers  had 
taken  John  desperately  by  surprise,  and  he  had  not 
much  confidence  in  the  adopted  Southern  drawl  he 
now  endeavoured  to  i)ut  into  his  voice,  taken  from  a 
Southern  man  he  once  know  in  Wisconsin. 

General  Johnston  was  a  small  man,  very  upright, 
with  closely  cut  beard  and  mustache  turning  gray. 
He  had  a  keen,  kindly  face,  and  an  impressive  dig- 
nity of  manner.  But  he  looked,  John  thouglit,  like 
a  man  worn  out  with  ill-health  and  mental  worry. 
The  uniforms  of  his  officers  were  threadbare  and 
weather-stained,  and  not  a  horse  was  in  decent  con- 
dition; all  were  gaunt  and  overworked. 

"  You  are  with  Hardee,"  the  general  said. 
"  What  are  you  doing  bo  far  from  your  lines?  " 

"  Eeconnoitring,  General.     We  have  been  around 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL,  235 

two  of  Sherman's  armies,  and  I  was  starting  right 
back  when  I  heard  yon  were  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  ventured  to  report  to  you  first." 

"Quite  right.     Your  news?" 

"  Sherman  'pears  to  carry  all  before  him,  Gen- 
eral." 

"  What  supplies  has  he  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  we  could  make  out,  a  very  large  train, 
well  guarded.  We  found  no  weak  places,  though  we 
looked  well." 

Johnston  received  this  with  some  impatience. 

"  You  have  no  good  news.  Yet  we  are  holding 
him  at  New  Hope  crossing." 

"  By  your  leave.  General,  McPherson  is  getting 
back  from  Dallas,  and  Schofield  is  closing  from  the 
left.     We  will  not  hold  them  long." 

The  general  turned  in  his  saddle,  with  a  jerk  of 
the  head. 

"Polly,  you  hear  that?  It  had  better  be  done 
then  and  at  once." 

The  officer  bowed. 

"  No  other  course  seems  possible,  General.  Har- 
dee must  know." 

The  general  turned  to  John. 

"  Do  you  return  direct  to  your  commander?  " 

"  Direct,  General." 

"  I  have  important  intelligence  for  him,  which  I 
will  send  by  an  officer  of  my  staff  under  your  escort. 
Wait  with  your  men  while  I  write  a  letter." 

John  saluted  and  rode  back,  swiftly  making  plans. 

"  The  ball  is  rolling  in  our  favour  now,"  he  said 
to  his  men.     "  We  are  to  escort  an  officer  of  John- 


236  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

ston's  staff  with  desjjatches  to  Hardee.  This  was 
what  I  wanted — more  than  I  dreamed  of.  That  let- 
ter may  be  worth  everything  to  us,  and  must  be  taken 
witli  the  bearer,  when  the  time  comes.  Eide  behind 
and  keep  your  eyes  on  me.  Wlien  I  lay  my  hand  on 
his  shoulder,  close  round,  and  cover  him.  If  we  are 
chased " 

"  Just  what  we  shall  be,"  interrupted  Bob  Spen- 
niker.     "  That  farm  was  a  trap.     See!  " 

The  staff  had  halted  some  distance  from  the  house, 
but  some  one  was  waving  a  handkerchief,  and  while 
Bob  spoke,  a  horseman  left  the  group  of  ofTicers  and 
rode  to  the  gate. 

"  There!  "  cried  Bob,  with  triumph  in  his  tone. 
"  I  told  you  how  it  would  be.  We  have  one  chance, 
and  only  one — scoot  and  let  the  despatch  go.  Who 
says  the  same?     There's  no  time  for  ceremony." 

The  men  glanced  at  John.  For  an  instant  he  did 
not  speak;  then,  striking  his  horse  with  the  spur  and 
bringing  him  so  close  to  Spenniker's  that  they  almost 
touched  one  another,  he  drew  a  revolver. 

"  You  are  right.  No  ceremony.  One  step  and 
you  are  a  dead  man — and  so  are  those  who  follow 
you! " 

Bob's  face  changed,  a  smile  broke  over  it,  broaden- 
ing to  a  grin,  and  then  he  swore  from  pure  delight. 

"  Thunder!  I've  fetched  it  out,"  he  said  in  a 
loud  whisper.  "  I  did  not  tliink  he  could  rar'  so,  and 
as  a  last  stake  I  tried  rvTshing.  Put  that  thing  away. 
Captain.  I  never  ran  from  a  rebel  yet,  and  I  won't 
begin  now,  except  at  your  word.  You  can  command 
me,  and  I  will  obey  every  time." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  237 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  galloping  horse,  and  an 
officer  rode  up.  John  had  no  time  to  reply.  This 
officer  was  a  young  man  with  a  fresh-coloured  face, 
smooth  shaven,  only  redeemed  from  actual  effemi- 
nacy and  boyishness  by  a  pair  of  honest  penetrating 
gray  eyes.  He  nodded  good-humouredly  all  round 
as  he  rode  up. 

"How  are  you,  boys?"  Then  to  John:  "I  have 
the  letter  right  enough.  Let  us  be  off  as  fast  as  we 
can  tear.  My  name's  Ealph  Cunnington,  lieutenant. 
What  is  yours.  Courier?  " 

He  spoke  to  John,  who  was  the  only  one  who  had 
the  presence  of  mind  to  salute  him. 

"Do  you  know  the  way?"  the  lieutenant 
went  on. 

"  Yes,  Lieutenant." 

"  Then  let  us  make  tracks  at  the  lope." 

The  escort  was  nothing  loath.  A  glance  behind 
them  showed  the  man  from  the  farm  galloping  back 
to  the  staff  at  full  speed.  A  detachment  would  be 
sent  in  pursuit. 

"  Eide,  boys,"  John  said,  in  a  tone  that  made 
the  subaltern  stare  and  frown — "  ride  all  you  know!  " 


16 


CHAPTEE   XXI. 

The  course  John  took  was  not  the  shortest  route 
to  Sherman's  lines.  It  was  necessary  to  keep  in 
a  southerly  direction  until  out  of  reach  of  the  ene- 
my, or  the  suspicions  of  the  lieutenant  would  at 
once  he  aroused.  Equally  important  was  it  to  make 
for  the  open  country,  where  the  superior  speed  and 
condition  of  their  horses  could  have  full  play.  John 
had  not  bred  horses  for  five  years  for  nothing.  In 
spite  of  the  night  ride,  his  animals  were  still  fresh 
and  in  far  better  condition  .than  those  of  the  Con- 
federates. A  few  miles  of  hard  riding  and  escape 
would  be  easy.  Meanwhile,  if  they  were  pursued, 
what  was  to  be  done  with  Lieutenant  Ealph  Cun- 
nington? 

John  rode  at  his  right.  Bob  Spenniker  on  the  left, 
and  the  men  behind.  All  went  well  for  a  few  min- 
utes, the  pace  made  by  the  lieutenant  being  hard 
enough  to  satisfy  even  his  escort.  He  was  mounted 
on  a  thoroughbred  mare.  Then  came  a  shout  and  a 
pistol  shot  from  behind  to  attract  the  lieutenant's 
attention.  At  the  same  moment  his  mare  plunged 
forward  violently,  defying  all  efforts  to  control  her, 
and  bolted  at  a  pace  Bob  Spenniker  and  John,  who 
had  the  best  mounts,  could  scarcely  keep  up  with. 
238 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  239 

> 

The  circumstance  astounded  the  lieutenant,  who  was 
unaware  that  Bob  Spenniker  had  pricked  her  in  the 
flanks  with  a  knife. 

By  the  time  she  was  in  order  a  clump  of  trees  lay 
between  them  and  the  farm. 

.  "  The  best-blooded  beast  I've  ever  seen,  sir,"  John 
remarked,  as  the  officer  was  about  to  speak.  I  would 
much  like  to  know  her  pedigree." 

Cunnington's  face,  which  had  been  puzzled  and 
anxious,  lit  up  at  once  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Messenger  was  her  sire;  her  mother  was  bred 
on  our  plantation.  There  are  not  many  to  beat  her. 
What  was  that  firing  behind  us?  " 

"  Union  scout,  sir,  may  be,"  John  answered. 
"  They  are  audacious  enough  for  anything  these 
times — Sherman's  men,"  adding  quickly:  "  Messen- 
ger? He  was  the  best  horse  ever  seen  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic." 

"  You  may  well  say  that.     Ever  seen  him?  " 

"  No,  but  I  have  been  told  a  heap.  Could  ye 
give  me  his  points.  Lieutenant?  I  love  a  rarely  good 
horse.  This  one  ain't  bad,  though  he  don't  begin  to 
compare  with  your  mare.  What  do  you  think  of 
him?  " 

"  A  good  beast."  was  the  answer — "  a  very  good 
beast;  bony  and  well  knitted  up,  steps  out  freely  and 
in  good  fix.  Where  and  how  do  you  manage  to  keep 
him  in  such  condition?  Johnston  himself  can  not 
get  corn  enough  round  here." 

John  grinned. 

"  We  struck  the  horses  near  the  Union  lines  and 
made  a  trade.     That  pays  sometimes." 


240  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

The  lieutenant  laughed,  and  then,  replying  to  a 
second  request,  launched  into  a  learned  disquisition 
upon  the  points  of  Messenger^  the  great  English 
thoroughbred  sire  in  that  day  to  some  of  the  best 
horses  in  America.  John  began  to  breathe  again 
now.  They  had  distanced  their  pursuers,  and  were 
almost  out  of  danger.  The  next  thing  was  to  change 
the  course  toward  the  Union  lines,  and  John,  still 
talking  horse-flesh,  began  gradually  to  rein  in  a 
northerly  direction.  But  they  had  not  gone  far 
when  Cunnington  called  a  halt. 

"How's  this,  Courier?"  he  said  to  John,  looking 
round  him.  "  I  thought  you  knew  the  way.  The  turn 
you  have  taken  will  run  us  into  Sherman's  rear.  You 
had  better  let  me  guide  you.  I  happen  to  know  this 
country  pretty  well.     We  must  strike  south." 

John  looked  slowly  round  and  turned  his  head  as 
if  puzzled.  The  officer  was  still  unsuspecting,  and  it 
was  most  desirable  to  keep  him  so,  in  case  they  ran 
into  another  body  of  the  enemy,  but  they  could  not 
afford  to  lose  time.  The  arrest  must  come  now.  He 
raised  his  hand,  and  the  men  were  fingering  their 
revolvers,  when  Bob,  who  was  scanning  every  grass 
blade  and  twig  within  sight,  said  in  his  driest  tone: 

"  We  have  run  upon  friends  when  least  expecting 
'em.     Look  ahead." 

John  dropped  his  hand  hastily  and  did  so.  Half 
hidden  behind  a  tree  a  hundred  yards  away  was  a 
face  and  a  pair  of  hands  levelling  a  rifle  at  Lieutenant 
Cunnington.  The  rest  of  the  man  was  carefully  con- 
cealed, and  so  motionless  was  he  that  only  the  eyes 
of  a  frontiersman  could  have  seen  him. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  241 

John  spurred  his  horse  and  placed  himself  in 
front  of  the  lieutenant. 

"  Don't  waste  the  bullet,  friend,  and  lose  your 
life/'  he  called  out.  "  You  cannot  shoot  ten.  We 
are  from  General  Johnston.     What  are  you?" 

The  man  looked  at  him  a  moment  as  if  rather  in- 
clined to  let  his  rifle  answer,  then  came  from  behind 
the  tree.  He  had  a  face  as  gaunt  and  brown  as  an 
Indian's,  with  unkempt  hair  and  beard,  and  was 
dressed  in  greasy  leather  with  a  gaudy  neckerchief 
and  cowhide  shoes. 

"  I  am  keepin'  an  eye  for  youths — Texans,  out- 
post of  Hood's  division,  Hardee's  army.  If  my  trig- 
ger pulled  easier,"  he  added  with  a  grin,  "  you'd  be  in 
hell,  young  man.  But  I  saw  his  uniform,"  with  a 
jerk  of  the  thumb  at  the  direction  of  the  lieutenant, 
"  and  so  I  held  on." 

"  How  many  of  you  ?  "  said  John,  forgetting  that 
it  was  not  his  place  to  ask  questions. 

"  Twenty,"  was  the  cheering  reply. 

The  lieutenant  now  rode  forward.  "  I  have  de- 
spatches for  your  general,"  he  said  in  an  authoritative 
tone.     "  Take  me  to  him,  will  you  ?  " 

The  man  laughed  Jeeringly.  That  a  youthful 
subaltern  of  another  regiment  should  think  that  he 
could  command  a  Texan  of  Hood's  was  amusing  to 
the  last  degree. 

"  Take  yourself,  my  sonny,"  he  said  with  a  sneer. 
"  Our  work  lays  here." 

Cunnington's  face  flushed;  his  quick  Southern 
temper  rose  in  an  instant. 

"  Damn  your  impudence!  "  he  flashed  out;  "  I  will 


242  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

report  you  for  insubordination.  Where's  your  offi- 
cer? " 

"  You  will — wliat?  "  growled  the  Texan,  slipping 
his  rifle  into  his  arm-pit  and  cocking  it.  But  John, 
who  had  drawn  a  revolver  to  be  prepared  for  emer- 
gencies, covered  him,  Bob  Spenniker  following  suit. 

"  Obey  orders,  friend,"  John  said  quietly.  "  We 
are  in  a  hurry." 

The  man  glared  at  the  weapons  and  at  the  faces 
behind  them,  and  then  without  speaking  threw  his 
rifle  over  his  shoulder  and  strode  away,  the  horse- 
men following. 

"  By  George,  Courier,"  the  lieutenant  said,  laugh- 
ing, "  you  are  not  half  so  gentle  as  you  look.  I 
would  rather  be  behind  your  fire  than  face  it.  That 
is  often  so,  though,  with  very  quiet  men.     Thanks." 

The  subaltern  in  charge  of  the  outpost  turned  out 
to  be  a  friend  of  Cunnington's  and  offered  to  add  half 
his  force  to  the  escort,  saying  that  Hardee's  head- 
quarters was  ten  miles  off,  and  that  the  road  was  dan- 
gerous, as  they  were  near  the  Yankee  lines.  John 
listened  with  painful  intentness  for  Cunnington's 
reply. 

"  I  will  take  ten,"  he  said,  adding  privately  to 
John:  "  After  our  little  experience  I  prefer  that  you 
and  your  boys  should  not  be  outnumbered  by  these 
Texans;  yet  they  would  be  useful  if  we  were  let  in 
for  a  brush  with  the  blue-noses." 

The  outpost  were  eating  a  hasty  meal  at  this  time, 
in  which  John's  men  were  invited  to  join.  They  did 
so,  and  with  remarkably  good  appetites,  considering 
that  if  the  halt  lasted  too  long  members  of  Johnston's 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  243 

staff  might  overtake  them,  and  that  in  any  event  they 
had  a  desperate  struggle  before  them.  But  it  is  a  sol- 
dier's maxim  to  eat  whenever  he  has  food  before  him. 
John  alone  found  it  difficult,  and  was  deeply  thank- 
ful when  the  order  to  mount  was  given.  He  man- 
aged to  get  a  moment  alone  with  Bob  Spenniker. 

"  We  must  strike  as  soon  as  we  are  well  away  from 
this  crowd.  A  man  must  cover  each  Texan.  I  will 
take  the  lieutenant.  We  are  not  far  from  our  lines, 
as  you  heard  them  say.  Take  no  prisoners  except 
Cunnington.  Tie  up  the  rest,  and  bring  along  the 
horses  that  don't  stampede.  It  was  well  you  had 
your  eyes.     We  should  all  have  been  lost  else." 

A  faint  wink  quivered  on  Bob's  eyelid. 

"  Texans,  boss,  is  hell!  "  he  said  solemnly.  "  But 
we  will  get  away  with  that  letter." 

They  started,  riding  in  silence.  There  was  no 
more  talk  now  of  blooded  mares  and  thoroughbreds; 
the  only  sound  as  they  rode  was  the  ceaseless  drip  of 
the  rain  and  the  splash  of  the  hoofs  through  the  mud. 
They  were  in  the  midst  of  forest  land  again,  and  a 
thick  mist  was  rising  from  the  steaming,  spongy 
ground.  The  prospect  was  depressing  in  the  extreme 
to  the  Union  men,  and  their  courage  began  to  drag 
and  falter.  They  cursed  the  day  they  had  volunteered 
for  such  an  expedition;  they  cursed  John  for  getting 
them  into  such  a  hole.  They  felt  no  confidence  in 
themselves,  and  John's  qualities  as  a  fighter  they 
knew  nothing  about.  Texans  had  terrible  reputa- 
tions for  quick  shooting  and  handiness  with  knives, 
and  these  were  powerful  men,  hard-faced  and  supple- 
jointed.     John  was  unconscious  of  his  men's  condi- 


24:4:  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

tion.  He  had  not  been  a  leader  long  enough  to 
know  how  much  difference  there  is  in  men  at  dif- 
ferent times.  He  supposed  that  they  would  be  ani- 
mated with  his  own  sense  of  the  vital  importance 
of  securing  Johnston's  despatch,  as  Bob  Spen- 
niker  appeared  to  be.  John's  difficulty  with  him- 
self was  to  curb  his  impatience  long  enough.  He 
longed  for  the  struggle  and  had  no  fears  of  its 
results  at  all.  He  hardly  expected  a  shot  to  be 
fired. 

Five  minutes  jaassed — ten.  They  were  beyond 
sight  and  hearing  of  the  outpost.  At  any  time  an- 
other might  be  met  with.  John  raised  himself  in  his 
stirrups,  looked  at  Bob,  and  laid  his  hand  on  Lieu- 
tenant Cunnington's  shoulder,  upon  which  every 
Union  man  cocked  his  rifle  and  called  upon  the  Tex- 
an nearest  to  him  to  surrender.  John  caught  the 
lieutenant  firmly  by  the  collar. 

"  Dismount,  sir." 

"What?" 

"  We  are  Union  soldiers.  Give  me  that  de- 
spatch." 

"  I'll  see  you " 

The  oath  was  lost  in  the  struggle  that  followed. 
Gallantly  the  lieutenant  grappled  with  his  enemy; 
but  John's  grip  held,  though  when  Bob,  who  was  not 
troubled  with  scruples,  would  have  shot  Cunnington 
to  save  trouble,  John  turned  tbe  revolver  aside  and 
saved  his  life.  They  were  off  their  horses  now,  strug- 
gling on  the  ground.  Putting  forth  all  his  strength, 
John  held  Cunnington  down  while  Bob,  with  profes- 
sional adroitness,  picked  his  pocket  of  the  precious 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL,  245 

letter  and  thrust  it  into  John's  breast.  As  he  did  so 
he  whispered: 

"  Get  to  your  horse  and  scoot!  ISTever  mind  him 
or  any  one.    The  boys  are  overmatched." 

John  sprang  up  and  looked  round,  when  what 
seemed  a  stunning  blow  on  the  back  of  the  head 
threw  him  violently  forward.  He  fell  on  his  face, 
and,  but  for  the  concentration  of  his  mind  upon  the 
letter,  must  have  been  utterly  stupefied.  But  he  con- 
trived to  raise  himself  to  his  knees  and  found  his 
horse  standing  over  him.  He  set  his  teeth  and  made 
a  supreme  effort  and  crawled  into  the  saddle.  Then 
a  deadly  faintness  overpowered  him,  and  he  was  con- 
scious of  nothing  more  until  he  found  himself  slowly 
riding  through  the  trees  alone.  His  horse  was  pro- 
ceeding at  a  gentle  pace,  as  if  conscious  of  the  condi- 
tion of  his  master.  Yet  he  moved  his  head  wearily 
from  side  to  side,  for  from  behind,  growing  louder 
every  moment,  came  the  sound  of  horsemen  in  pur- 
suit. The  Union  men  had  been  beaten.  Excellent 
soldiers  on  the  field  of  battle,  they  were  not  a  match 
for  these  Texans  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight.  As  one 
of  them  said  afterward  to  a  man  he  made  prisoner, 
"  You'd  have  had  a  kind  of  show,  Yank,  if  ye'd  shot 
us  first  and  tied  us  afterward." 

The  presented  arms  of  the  soldiers  made  the  Tex- 
ans laugh,  for  with  the  quickness  of  cats  they  dodged 
aside,  only  two  slightly  wounded.  Then  came  their 
turn,  and  four  Union  men  fell  dead  in  as  many  sec- 
onds. The  rest  closed  in  bravely,  but  were  over- 
powered. Bob  Spenniker  alone  making  his  escape. 
This  little  scrimmage  and  its  results  put  the  Texans 


246  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

in  such  good  humour  that  the  excitement  of  Lieuten- 
ant Cunnington,  as  he  threw  himself  on  a  horse  and 
called  upon  them  to  pursue  John,  caused  a  burst  of 
laughter,  and  not  a  man  stirred.  The  lieutenant  was 
so  incoherent  in  his  rage  and  anxiety  that  it  was  some 
moments  before  he  could  make  himself  understood. 
13ut  when  at  last  he  did  so  the  men  responded  with  a 
yell. 

"  This  way  !  "  one  shouted ;  "  we'll  be  on  the  boy 
in  two  shakes.  I  saw  him  crawlin'  off  with  his  head 
hanging  over  the  saddle-horn.  We'll  get  that  letter. 
Lieutenant,  if  we  have  to  ride  through  Sherman's 
lines." 


CHAPTEE   XXII. 

A  BULLET  had  grazed  John's  skull  and  cut  a  deep 
and  ugly  scalp  wound,  which  had  begun  to  bleed  free- 
ly. This,  though  it  had  given  him  consciousness  and 
now  enabled  him  to  encourage  his  horse  to  put  forth 
all  its  speed,  brought  a  new  danger  with  it — a  weak- 
ness that  rapidly  increased.  He  fought  against  the 
faintness  with  all  the  stubbornness  that  was  in  him. 
He  knew  by  the  course  his  horse  was  taking  that  he 
was  making  straight  for  the  lines;  he  knew  the  power 
and  courage  of  the  animal,  and  felt  that  if  this  faint- 
ness could  be  kept  at  bay  the  precious  letter  could  be 
safely  delivered  into  Sherman's  hands. 

Whiz! — a  bullet  tore  over  his  shoulder,  cutting 
through  the  cloth  of  his  cape.  The  enemy  were  with- 
in range  and  had  seen  him.  John  stroked  his  horse's 
neck  and  whispered  to  it.  He  had  not  strength  for 
whip  or  spur,  or  the  heart  to  use  them,  and  they  were 
not  needed,  for  the  good  beast,  frightened  by  the  noise 
of  the  bullet,  made  a  plunge  that  nearly  unseated  the 
rider,  and  then  broke  into  a  furious  gallop.  The 
next  shot  went  wide,  and  then  the  firing  ceased.  But 
giddiness  again  began  to  overpower  John  in  spite  of 
all  his  efPorts,  and  he  could  neither  see  nor  feel — only 
by  some  blind  instinct  cling  to  his  flying  horse.     He 

247 


248  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

wondered  vaguely  whether  this  meant  death.  "  But 
it  shall  not,"  he  muttered,  "  till  I  have  brought  in 
that  letter."  For  two  miles  he  rode  on,  the  Texans 
following  in  grim  silence,  drawing  nearer  and  nearer 
as  John  grew  weaker.  The  end  was  very  near. 
John's  head  dropped  lower  and  lower,  the  reins 
slipped  from  his  hand;  he  clung  to  the  horse's  mane 
and  swayed  to  and  fro  like  a  drunken  man.  The  grip 
of  his  knees  began  slowly  to  relax.  Suddenly  his 
horse  pulled  up,  throwing  both  feet  out  stiffly  and 
coming  to  an  instant  halt,  with  arched  neck  and 
quivering  ears.  A  man  stood  in  the  path  with  pre- 
sented rifle;  behind  him,  a  score  more,  mounted — a 
country  patrol. 

"Who  goes  there?" 

The  answer  was  the  dull  thud  of  a  falling  body, 
a  yell  of  disappointment  from  the  Texans,  and  John 
lay  as  one  dead  at  Sergeant  Hornber's  feet! 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

General  Sherman  spoke  in  an  impatient  tone,  be- 
ing engaged  in  calculations  which  had  been  interrupt- 
ed five  times  in  as  many  minutes. 

"  Courier  returned.  General.  Lieutenant  Snel- 
ling  sent  me  to  report." 

"  Which  courier?  " 

"  John  Burletson." 

Sherman  put  down  his  pen. 

"  Why  does  not  the  man  come  himself?  " 

"  He  is  dead,  General." 

Sherman  leisurely  folded  up  his  papers. 

"Where  is  the  body?" 


THE   GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  249 

"  Lieutenant  Snelling's  tent." 

"  I  will  go  to  him." 

A  crowd  of  men^  mostly  couriers,  were  collected 
about  the  tent,  discussing  in  cool  and  cheerful  tones 
the  size  and  shape  of  the  wound  in  John's  head. 

"  Wonderful  how  he  could  have  lived  so  long," 
Sherman  heard  one  man  say.  "  He  must  have  want- 
ed to  get  here  powerful  bad.  Pity  the  news  he  came 
with  was  not  written  down.  He's  a  gone  coon — 
sure." 

Then  they  drew  back  to  let  the  general  pass. 
Within  the  tent  were  the  lieutenant,  Sergeant  Horn- 
ber,  and  the  surgeon  to  the  staff,  who  was  feeling 
John's  pulse. 

"  Strange  case,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  up  at 
Sherman.  "  The  man's  alive.  His  brain  is  nearly 
exposed,  and  he  has  lost  pints.  He  must  have  ridden 
for  miles  to  get  himself  into  such  a  state.  We  found 
blood  in  his  boots." 

"  Has  he  spoken?  " 

"  N^o,  General.  But  I  will  bring  him  to  con- 
sciousness if  there  is  enough  vitality  left  for  my  stuff 
to  act.  I  guess  you  had  better  remain  here  if  you 
are  expecting  news  of  importance.  He  may  last  a 
minute  or  two  after  he  revives;  he  won't  go  much 
further.  Ah!  look  out;  he's  coming  round.  Stand 
where  he  can  see  you." 

John's  eyelids  quivered;  he  sighed  twice  and  then 
looked  feebly  round.  As  he  caught  sight  of  Sher- 
man's face  his  expression  became  concentrated  and 
full  of  intelligence  and  his  lips  moved.  Sherman 
bent  his  head  until  their  faces  almost  touched. 


250  THE   GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  Speak  up/'  he  said  gently,  in  a  matter-of-fact 
tone.     "  Eemember,  I  am  a  little  deaf." 

But  John  did  not  try  to  speak.  Looking  at  Sher- 
man with  eyes  full  of  meaning,  he  lifted  his  arms 
feebly,  and  placed  the  nerveless  fingers  on  his  left 
side. 

"  The  pocket!  "  cried  the  doctor.  "  Something  in 
his  pocket." 

They  undid  the  coat,  and  Sherman  drew  out  Gen- 
eral Johnston's  letter.  At  sight  of  the  handwriting, 
he  tore  it  open  and  read  swiftly,  John  watched  him 
eagerly.  He  saw  the  stern  eyes  brighten  and  the 
broad  chest  heave  with  a  great  sigh  of  relief.  Then 
he  lost  consciousness  once  more,  and  even  the  doctor 
thought  this  time  that  he  was  dead. 

"  Greeley,"  Sherman  said  to  the  doctor,  who  was 
looking  at  the  letter  with  curious  eyes,  "  this  man  de- 
serves the  thanks  of  the  army.  If  he  lives  he  shall 
know  it.  Nothing  now  must  stand  in  the  way  of  his 
recovery.  I  know  you  will  spare  no  pains — you  never 
do — but  drop  all  other  work,  if  necessary,  and  stay 
by  him.  I  would  rather  lose  a  company  than  such 
a  life  as  his." 

Sherman  spoke  huskily,  and  with  deep  feeling. 
He  had  good  reason.  The  letter  now  in  his  possession 
was  a  notification  from  Johnston  to  Hardee  that  the 
fortified  position  on  the  railway  from  Kingston  to 
Marietta  had  been  secretly  abandoned.  With  such 
intelligence  to  hand,  all  anxiety  in  Sherman's  mind 
concerning  his  own  position  was  over.  This  letter 
meant  that  a  general  retreat  southward  on  the  part 
of  the  Confederates  was  in  progress,  and  his  own  bold 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL.  251 

march  to  Dallas  justified.  In  a  few  days  the  army 
would  be  within  reach  of  all  its  supplies  and  be  ad- 
vanced far  into  the  enemy's  country.  These  hopes 
were  realized.  In  six  days  the  railway  as  far  as  Big 
Shanty,  north  of  Marietta,  was  in  Union  hands.  New 
Hope  crossing  was  carried,  and  by  the  1st  of  June 
Sherman  was  able  to  report  to  Washington  that  he 
was  in  a  strong  position  and  in  full  command  of  sup- 
plies, and  had  marched  one  hundred  miles  into  Geor- 
gia, through  a  densely  wooded  country,  against  a 
vigilant  and  stubborn  foe. 

John  lay  between  life  and  death  for  a  week.  His 
condition  was  a  subject  of  interest  to  numbers  of  men 
who  had  never  seen  his  face.  Bob  Spenniker,  who 
had  reached  camp  an  hour  after  the  leader,  with  a 
wounded  leg,  gave  every  one  he  knew  a  highly  col- 
oured account  of  the  whole  expedition,  and  the  news 
spread  from  regiment  to  regiment  that  this  courier,  a 
recruit  at  that,  had  interviewed  General  Johnston, 
and  brought  to  Sherman  despatches  of  enormous  im- 
portance. As  confirmation  of  this,  the  report  came 
that  "  Uncle  Billy  "  sent  every  day  to  inquire  after 
the  wounded  man.  The  chief  speculation  of  interest 
soon  became,  what  reward  the  courier  would  receive 
if  he  lived.  It  would  be  promotion  of  some  kind; 
that  much  was  certain.  Equally  certain  was  it, 
Sherman  being  commander,  that  if  the  man  did  his 
duty  his  future  was  assured.  But  would  he  live? 
Nobody  who  was  able  to  obtain  reliable  information 
thought  so,  for  it  was  given  out  on  the  best  author- 
ity that  Surgeon  Comfort  Greeley  had  guaranteed 
that  he  would  not  die. 


252  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

Dr.  Greeley,  or  "  Candy  Gree/'  as  he  was  called, 
in  compliment  to  the  extreme  acerbity  of  his  tongue 
and  temper,  was  a  very  positive  individual.  Such  a 
man  either  becomes  a  prophet  to  his  generation  or 
the  reverse.  Greeley,  to  put  it  mildly,  was  not  a 
prophet.  This  did  not  mean  that  his  patients  usually 
died.  Very  many  recovered,  for  he  knew  his  busi- 
ness well.  But,  as  he  expressed  it,  they  were  the 
wrong  ones — the  people  he  said  would  die;  while 
others,  about  whom  he  had  waxed  vehemently  hope- 
ful, immediately  saw  fit  to  contract  some  unexpected 
complication  and  become  defunct,  as  if  to  spite  him. 
Yet  he  never  learned  discretion,  but  continued  to 
prophesy  as  positively  as  ever  to  a  derisive  world. 
John's  case  interested  him.  He  was  not  easily 
touched,  but  the  determination  that  this  man  must 
have  shown  impressed  Greeley  as  much  as  it  had 
done  Sherman.  He  nursed  and  tended  John  with 
more  than  his  usual  skill,  and  with  the  tenderness  of 
a  woman.  Never  in  any  campaign  was  a  harder 
fight  made  against  death.  It  was  an  interesting  sight 
to  see  the  general  and  his  surgeon — both  grim  men, 
inured  to  bloodshed,  daily  braving  death  themselves 
and  holding  human  life  at  its  cheapest  rate,  as  all 
soldiers  must  at  such  a  time — anxiously  watching  by 
the  bedside  of  a  private  soldier,  a  unit  in  the  hundred 
thousand  that  one  of  them  commanded,  and  a  stranger 
to  them  both. 

"  He  must  be  pulled  through,"  Sherman  said  once 
impatiently,  when  John  looked  worse  than  usual.  "  I 
can't  afford  to  lose  this  kind  of  man.  Will  you  do 
it,  Gree?" 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  253 

"  I  said  so,"  was  the  sharp  reply.  "  Don't  I  know 
my  trade?     I  tell  you  he  shall  live." 

Sherman  sighed. 

"  Chances  are  dead  against  him.     I  can  see  that." 

"  D — n  the  chances!    But  I  don't  admit  it." 

"  What  is  in  his  favour  ?  " 

"  Youth,  health,  constitution  of  a  hull;  tempera- 
ment of — of  an  Abraham  Lincoln.  Chances,  Gen- 
eral! Pshaw!  I  know  he  has  a  wound  that  would 
kill  two  men — I  say  I  know  that.  I  know  he  did 
the  worst  thing  he  could  for  your  sake,  and  rode  miles 
bleeding  like  a  hog,  and  that  all  this  last  week  I  have 
had  fever  to  reduce,  with  hardly  an  ounce  of  blood 
in  him  to  spare.  But  what  of  it?  He's  alive;  weak — 
yes,  that's  the  point,  but  his  temperature  normal  and 
pulse  not  so  bad.     Wait  now;  watch,  wait  and  see." 

Twenty-four  hours  passed,  and  not  only  did 
Sherman,  Hornber,  and  Spenniker,  the  men  person- 
ally interested  in  John,  watch  anxiously  to  see  what 
changes  time  would  bring,  but  half  of  the  men  in 
Spenniker's  regiment  watched  too,  having  bets  with 
Bob  on  the  result.  The  deadly  prostration  after  the 
fever  and  loss  of  blood  showed  signs  of  giving  way. 
The  next  day  John  took  liquid  nourishment  freely, 
and  the  corner  was  turned.  Great  was  the  joy  and 
congratulation  of  John's  friends,  and  great  was  the 
degradation  among  Bob  Spenniker's  comrades.  That 
astute  gentleman,  the  moment  the  patient  showed 
signs  of  recovery,  had  taken  up  every  bet  laid  against 
his  life,  and  now  stood  to  win  a  fabulous  amount,  un- 
less his  debtors  were  knocked  over  themselves  before 
they  had  a  chance  of  paying  up,  a  fate  which,  Bob 
17 


254  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

afterward  complained,  overtook  most  of  them.  Two 
weeks  later  John  was  sitting  up  in  bed  propped  by 
pillows,  reading  a  letter  from  home,  when  General 
Sherman,  who  had  been  too  busy  to  see  him  lately, 
came  in  unexpectedly. 

"  Tiring  your  brain,  aren't  you?  "  he  said  kindly, 
bringing  with  him  an  atmosphere  of  power  and  life 
which  John  found  very  invigorating.  "  What  does 
doctor  say?  Drop  that,  now,"  as  John  saluted. 
"  Let  ceremony  alone  until  you  are  on  your  feet  again. 
What  are  those?     Home  letters?  " 

"  Yes,  General." 

"  Then  I  must  take  back  what  I  said.  They  will 
do  you  good.     That  from  your  wife?" 

John  flushed,  for  he  was  very  weak.  It  was  a 
letter  from  Jean.  Sherman  saw  he  had  made  a  mis- 
take. 

"  Whoever  it  is,  send  her  a  bright  answer  back. 
You  will  be  fit  for  service  before  a  month  is  gone — 
and  promotion." 

John  caught  his  breath. 

"  General — what  does  that  mean?  I  have  done 
nothing  deserving  such  a  thing." 

"  We  think  differently,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  do, 
anyhow.  It  is  in  my  power  to  give  a  man  a  com- 
mission if  he  is  clearly  worth  it." 

"A  commission — for  me — from  you!"  John 
gasped.  He  was  still  very  weak.  "  I  can't  be- 
lieve it." 

His  voice  was  strained  and  trembled  in  his  ex- 
citement. Dr.  Greeley,  who  had  just  entered,  shook 
his  head  at  Sherman. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  255 

"  Don't,  then/'  the  general  said,  good-hnmoured- 
ly.  "  I  only  talked  to  cheer  you.  It  appears  I  made 
a  mistake/'  looking  at  Greeley.  "  Never  mind. 
Good  news  never  turned  up  a  man's  toes  yet." 

"  Nervous  excitement  has,  often,"  snapped  the 
doctor. 

"  Then  I  will  go.  Take  care  of  yourself,  Burlet- 
son,  and  get  well."  He  rose  abruptly,  and  was  leaving 
the  tent  when  Greeley,  who  was  watching  John's  face, 
stopped  him. 

"  One  minute,  General,"  he  whispered.  "  He  has 
something  on  his  mind  to  say  to  you."  Sherman 
paused  good-naturedly  and  waited,  while  John  took 
up  the  letter  he  had  been  reading  and  played  with  it 
nervously. 

"  Say  it  out,  man,"  the  general  said  with  a 
smile.     "  What  is  there  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  I've  a  favour  to  ask.  General." 

"Well?" 

"  You  have  hinted  at  rewarding  my  small 
service." 

"  We  don't  reward  small  services  in  this  army. 
Well?" 

"  I  joined,  General,  as  a  kind  of  volunteer." 

"  So  did  I." 

"  A  letter  came  with  me  from  the  President.  I 
think  he  told  you  my  object." 

"  You  mean  that  crazy  notion,  that  preposterous 
idea  of  going  to  Santanelle?" 

"  Yes,  General." 

"  But  when  you  volunteered  for  this  expedition  I 
thought  that  had  been  knocked  out  of  you." 


256  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

John  smiled  faintly  and  caressed  his  letter. 

"  It  has  been  knocked  in  to-day.  I  want  to  know. 
General " 

"What?".  The  question  came  like  a  pistol  shot, 
sharp  and  threatening. 

"  Whether  I  may  go  there,  right  away,  when  I 
am  on  my  feet." 

"  I  should  not  offer  promotion  to  a  suicide!  " 

"  I  meant  instead  of  that."  John's  voice  was  low 
but  very  firm.  The  general  looked  at  him  with  a 
frown;  then  turned  on  his  heel,  saying,  in  a  biting 
tone: 

"  It  is  well  I  know  your  mind,  for  it  will  save  me 
trouble.  A  man  who  can  deliberately  fool  away  his 
life  is  not  fit  to  command  others.  But  I  will  wait 
until  you  are  stronger  and  have  your  nerves  and 
senses  back  again." 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

Dr.  Greeley  was  a  short-tempered  man.  The 
infirmity  was  constitutional,  aggravated  by  a  dis- 
appointed life,  and  when  we  made  his  acquaintance 
it  had  become  chronic  and  ineradicable.  Yet  he 
had  another  side  to  his  nature,  and  was  so  kind  to  his 
favourite  patients  that,  though  he  made  numberless 
enemies,  he  was  never  without  a  friend.  John  had 
found  this.  His  very  quiet  disposition  had  drawn 
out  all  that  was  best  in  Greeley,  and  until  the  gen- 
eral's visit  there  had  not  been  a  difference  between 
them.  The  immediate  consequence  of  Sherman's 
call  was  an  increase  of  gentleness  on  Greeley's  part  to- 
ward John.  The  patient's  nerves  were  so  much  over- 
wrought by  the  interview  that  it  was  only  by  great 
care  and  skill  that  Greeley  prevented  fever  from 
supervening ;  and  very  rude  indeed  were  the  remarks 
he  made  to  the  general's  orderly,  Avho  was  sent  to 
inquire. 

"  Tell  General  Sherman  that  my  man  has  been  on 
the  tear  ever  since  he  was  here.  I  had  no  sleep  with 
him  last  night,  and  don't  expect  to  get  much  to- 
night. It's  all  his  fault,  and  if  the  man  dies,  which 
is  now  more  than  likely,  I  shall  hold  him  responsible. 
Tell  him  this,  word  for  word.     If  it  scares  you,  I  will 

257 


258  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

write  it  down.  He  may  know  something  about  lead- 
ing an  army,  but  he  knows  less  than  nothing  about 
talking  to  a  man  wounded  in  the  head." 

When  John  was  well  enough,  however,  his  turn 
arrived,  and  he  became  the  astonished  recipient  of  the 
choicest  epithets  in  Dr.  Greeley's  vocabulary.  Gree- 
ley had  been  an  interested  listener  to  the  conversa- 
tion which  had  done  the  mischief,  and  had  heard 
from  Hornber  something  of  John's  intention  when 
he  joined  the  army.  He  liked  John,  and  considered 
it  to  be  his  duty  to  tell  him  what  his  obstinacy  would 
lead  to  if  he  persevered  in  his  plan  of  going  to  Santa- 
nelle.  The  attack  began  as  soon  as  the  patient  was 
really  out  of  all  danger  of  relapse,  and  lasted  until 
his  wound  was  healed  and  his  strength  had  returned 
to  him.  John  said  little  in  his  defence,  and  the  doctor 
boasted  in  private  to  Hornber  that  he  was  convincing 
"  this  misguided  idiot  that  his  mad  coon-hunt  must 
be  given  up."  Some  of  the  arguments,  John  had  to 
confess,  cut  him  to  the  quick. 

"  I  will  take  it  another  way,"  Greeley  said  one 
evening  as  they  sat  smoking,  Hornber  with  them,  aid- 
ing and  abetting  Candy  Gree  with  might  and  main. 
"  You  are  hard  upon  your  mother — shamefully  so. 
To  leave  her  for  such  a  thing  as  this  is  the  worst  kind 
of  selfishness.  Bad  enough  to  go  away  to  fight  your 
country's  battles,  though  that  is  right  and  natural. 
If  every  man  who  had  a  mother  stayed  at  home,  there 
would  be  no  army  at  all.  That  stands  to  reason. 
But  to  desert  her  in  her  feeble  old  age  to  fly  off  on 
such  cracked,  senseless  wee-gee  as  this!  I  tell  you, 
any  man  who  could  do  it  after  he  knows  what  you 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  259 

know  now,  is  a  criminal,  and  I  am  not  the  least  too 
tender-mouthed  to  say  so  to  his  face.  If  the  risk  were 
reasonable,  and  the  life  to  be  saved  your  brother's,  or 
some  man  who  had  gone  through  fire  to  save  you,  I 
would  say  little.  But  this  man  is  not  that  kind,  and 
the  risk  to  you  is  out  of  all  reason  and  sense.  Do  you 
think  the  rebs  don't  guard  their  prisons?  You  have 
sixty  miles  to  ride  to  Santanelle  from  this  camp,  and 
sixty  miles  to  get  back  again;  and  if  you  are  found 
out,  and  he  is  caught,  what  then?  Shooting;  quick, 
cold-blooded  gun-work.  I  know,  for  I  have  had 
scores  under  me  that  have  been  in  Southern  prisons. 
They  love  there  to  knock  a  Yank  on  the  head — it 
means  one  less  to  find  food  for.  If  the  thing  had 
ever  been  done,  I  would  try  and  forgive  you;  but  it 
has  been  tried  and  always  failed.  If  you  try  now  you 
are  past  swearing  at.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  it 
ain't  my  duty  to  certify  you  as  unfit  to  be  at  large, 
and  see  that  you  are  arrested  the  day  you  leave  me. 
— What  say  you,  Hornber?  " 

"  Me! "  cried  the  sergeant,  with  a  snort. 
"  There's  more  in  my  pipe  than  yours,  Doc.  Why  do 
you  harp  on  the  risk?  As  well  tell  a  moth  that  fire 
burns.  John  loves  danger.  Listen  to  what  Bobby 
Spenniker  tells  of  how,  instead  of  saving  his  skin  by 
a  scoot,  he  bluffed  up  cool  as  an  ice-house  to  General 
Joe  Johnston  and  his  staff  and  took  in  the  whole  out- 
fit with  his  innocent  face.  I  would  not  waste  two 
breaths  on  the  question  of  risk,  talking  to  John.  Not 
but  what  you  speak  God's  own  truth.  What  I  say  is, 
can  any  man  with  a  head — and  we  all  give  him  credit 
for  having  that — deliberately  tread  under  his  feet 


260  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

what  Sherman  has  for  him?  Talk  about  flying  in 
the  face  of  Providence!  Never  had  any  man  since 
the  war  began  so  good  a  chance  of  sailing  in  and  cap- 
turing all  that  is  good  in  the  army;  while,  if  he  lets 
the  chance  go  by,  and  goes  and  does  what  Sherman 
disapproves  of,  he'll  miss  it  all  and  ruin  himself. 
You  talk  of  his  mother.  I'll  add  this:  From  what 
he  has  told  me  about  the  old  lady  she  just  lives  in  the 
hope  of  his  success.  Aye,  John,  twist  it  and  turn  it 
how  ye  may,  if  you  fail  here  you  rob  your  mother  of 
her  rights.  She  has  helped,  as  mothers  do,  to  make 
you  what  you  are.  To  forego  what  is  offered  you, 
will  be  rankest  unfilialness,  to  my  thinking.  If  the 
love  of  your  mother  really  holds  your  heart,  you'll 
never  do  it.     There,  I  have  said  my  say." 

Both  looked  at  John  and  waited  for  his  answer. 
This  was  his  last  day  in  hospital.  To-morrow  he 
would  be  a  free  agent.  Earlier  in  the  day  he  had  said 
he  was  going  to  the  general  next  morning,  so  they 
had  fired  their  last  guns,  for  they  knew,  what  John 
did  not,  that  after  his  great  service  he  would  be  re- 
fused nothing  that  he  might  reasonably  ask. 

"What  will  it  be?"  the  doctor  asked. 

John  puffed  a  long  ring  of  smoke  from  a  cigar 
an  officer  in  the  cavalry  had  sent  him,  and  looked  at 
it  thoughtfully. 

"  I  have  listened  carefully,  good  friends,  to  all  you 
say,  and  but  for  the  mail  that  has  come  to  me  from 
home  I  do  not  know,  torn  about  as  my  own  mind  has 
been  since  I  have  been  here,  that  T  could  have  stood 
against  you  on  that  ground.  There  is  truth  bitter 
and  strong  in  much  you  have  set  down.     But  as 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  261 

things  are,  I  cannot,  I  will  not,  go  back  upon  my 
word.  The  chance  of  success  is  small,  I  know.  I 
never  thought  it  was  big.  But  there  is  no  other  way, 
and  if  that  boy  is  not  pulled  out  of  that  hole  he  will 
certainly  die.  So  much  I  heard  a  few  days  back. 
No — I  must  go,  and  without  delay.  1  shall  ask  you. 
Sergeant,  to  trace  out  with  me  a  map  of  roads  as  far 
as  we  can  get  them  on  the  way  to  Santanelle." 

"What  next?"  grumbled  Hornber.  "Perhaps 
you  will  ask  me  to  go  too.     I  will  not  help  you." 

"  Yes,  you  will,"  John  answered  gently,  "  when 
you  see  that  I  mean  going.  You  are  the  only  one 
who  knows  enough  to  do  it." 

"  Good  Lord! — the  man's  mad! "  Dr.  Greeley 
exclaimed.  "  Ah — we  are  going  to  have  a  visitor. 
George!  "  as  Hornber  sprang  smartly  to  attention. 
"  It  is  the  general  himself  !  " 

"  Well,  Doctor,"  Sherman  said,  taking  the  camp- 
table  as  a  seat,  and  lighting  a  pipe,  "  have  you  brought 
the  fellow  to  reason  as  you  promised  me  ?  " 

"  That  seems  impossible.     I  have  done  my  best." 

"  Obstinate  still?    What  is  to  be  done  with  him?  " 

"  He  should  be  arrested  as  a  mischievous  lunatic," 
Greeley  answered  savagely.  "  Tied  up  and  sent  home 
in  a  cage.  He  has  less  sense  than  any  man  I  ever  met, 
and  that  is  saying  something." 

"  What  say  you,  Burletson  ?  " 

"  I  would  ask  your  permission.  General,  to  make 
a  start  for  Santanelle  in  two  days." 

The  doctor  exploded. 

"  If  you  do,  I'm  d— d!    That's  all." 

"  In  three,  then." 


262  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  It  will  be  a  week,  seven  whole  days  and  nights, 
and  that  is  a  month  too  soon,  before  you'll  be  allowed 
to  go  anywhere,  except  for  exercise." 

"  Well,  then,  a  week,"  John  said,  with  a  sigh, 
"  if  I  must  wait  so  long." 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Burletson,  you  know,  and 
worse,"  Sherman  remarked  severely. 

"  So  I  have  been  told  by  both,  these  friends, 
General." 

"  Don't  call  me  a  friend,"  growled  Greeley.  "  I 
have  no  use  for  men  like  you." 

Sherman  looked  amused. 

"What  plans  have  you?" 

"  Have  I  your  leave  to  go?  " 

"  I  cannot  prevent  you.  The  instructions  I  re- 
ceived from  the  President  are  too  clear  to  be  set  aside. 
If  they  were  not,  it  might  be  different." 

"  I  have  strong  reasons,  General." 

"  They  must  be  strong.  Well — you  are  going? 
Tell  me  your  plans,  I  say." 

"  I  shall  disguise  myself.  I  have  thought  it  out, 
and  believe  my  best  chance  is  to  borrow  the  uniform 
of  a  rebel  subaltern.     I  know  where  I  can  get  one." 

"  You  are  ambitious." 

"  It  is  risky,  but  I  reckon  worth  it.  The  man  who 
is  going  with  me,  if  he  can  get  his  colonel's  permis- 
sion, will  act  as  my  servant." 

"  Only  one  man?  " 

"  I  should  have  gone  alone,  but  he  wished  so  much 
to  go!" 

"Who?" 

"  Bob  Spenniker." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  263 

"  The  little  rat!    None  better.    Well?  " 

"  We  will  ride  straight  to  Santanelle  town,  and- 
gather  information  there  about  the  prison.  I  shall 
pay  a  friendly  call  on  the  commandant,  and  perhaps 
get  a  look  at  the  prisoners.  What  we  do  after  that 
will  depend  upon  circumstances." 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  get  back?  " 

"  In  two  weeks.  It  is  sixty  miles  by  road  to  San- 
tanelle. We  shall  do  that  in  three  days.  The  return 
journey  may  take  longer,  and  there  are  sure  to  be  de- 
lays and  many  difficulties  at  the  place." 

"  I  give  you  less  time  than  that,  if  you  get  away  at 
all.  Eemember,  the  chances  of  their  seeing  through 
your  disguise  if  you  go  as  an  officer  are  ten  times  as 
great  as  they  were  before.  We  will  talk  about  this 
later.  I  have  a  map  that  may  be  of  use.  We  will 
do  what  we  can  for  you.  The  cavalry  shall  be  on  the 
lookout  and  meet  you  if  necessary.  Come  and  see  me 
in  your  rig.  I  lived  down  South  some  years,  and  I 
may  be  able  to  give  you  some  hints  in  deportment  and 
behaviour.  Everything  will  depend  on  that.  I  like 
your  ideas  on  the  whole,  but  you  will  be  like  a  man 
standing  on  a  powder  magazine  with  a  lighted  match 
in  his  hand." 

Two  days  later,  when  John  appeared  before  the 
general  fully  equipped,  Sherman  laughed  heartily. 

"  I  should  not  have  known  you,"  he  said.  "  But 
there  is  room  for  improvement.  You  must  not  hold 
your  sword  that  way,  to  begin  with.  They  would 
see  at  once  there  was  something  wrong.  ISTow  let  me 
hear  you  speak.  Ah,  that  will  not  do  at  all."  And 
he  then  proceeded  to  give  John  a  lesson  in  accent, 


264  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

deportment,  and  manner,  which  he  repeated  until  all 
that  he  had  to  teach  was  well  and  thoroughly  learned. 

It  was  a  characteristic  action — one  of  those  which 
endeared  Sherman  to  all  his  men,  though  he  was  a 
strong  disciplinarian. 

John  set  out  on  his  quest  at  the  end  of  June.  He 
rode  the  horse  whose  speed  and  sagacity  had  already 
saved  his  life  once.  Bob  was  equally  well  mounted. 
The  men  cheered  John  as  he  rode  off.  He  could  have 
had  forty  volunteers  to  accompany  him,  if  he  had 
needed  them,  for  this  new  and  original  way  of  "  dirk- 
ing the  rebs  "  made  a  great  impression  on  the  bolder 
spirits.  But  Bob  was  worth  them  all.  He  had  been 
•bred  in  the  slums  of  Chicago,  and  had  completed  his 
education  in  the  mining  camps  and  ranches  of  the 
Eocky  Mountains  and  Texas.  There  were  few  things 
of  wild  and  lawless  kinds  that  "  the  rat "  had  not 
taken  part  in;  he  was  the  best  shot  and  the  best  rider 
of  his  regiment,  and,  alas!  the  heaviest  gambler. 
Why  he  had  taken  so  strong  a  fancy  to  John  no  one 
could  understand.  It  was  a  curious  case  of  attraction 
of  opposites.  In  John's  presence,  Bob's  language  was 
comparatively  decent;  and  though  publicly  he  af- 
fected to  look  upon  his  leader  as  an  amiable  lunatic, 
it  was  not  worth  any  one's  while  to  make  a  disparag- 
ing remark  about  John  in  Bob's  hearing.  John,  on 
his  side,  trusted  Bob  implicitly,  and  made  no  secret 
of  the  opinion  that  if  he  were  successful  it  would 
probably  be  more  owing  to  Bob  than  to  any  action  of 
his  own.  Bob's  keenness  and  quickness  had  inspired 
John  with  a  profound  respect  for  the  little  man. 

They  rode  steadily  all  day,  keeping  a  sharp  look- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  265 

out  for  troops,  but  meeting  none,  except  a  patrol  or 
two,  which,  thanks  to  Bob's  sight  and  hearing,  they 
easily  avoided.  At  night  they  halted  in  a  small  vil- 
lage, and  John  for  the  first  time  tried  the  effect  of  his 
disguise.  He  was  well  satisfied  with  the  result,  and 
they  found  no  difficulty  in  getting  all  they  needed. 
Now  and  then  they  lost  their  way,  but  Bob's  wood- 
craft and  ingenuity  proved  equal  to  all  emergencies, 
and  they  reached  Santanelle  by  the  evening  of  the 
third  day.  Before  the  war,  Santanelle  had  contained 
one  thousand  inhabitants.  Now  there  were  but  a 
hundred  males,  not  one  of  whom  was  young  and 
able-bodied.  Most  of  the  work  was  done  by  the  wom- 
en, and  the  place  had  a  depressed,  i^overty-stricken 
appearance.  There  was  one  hotel,  in  which  place 
they  took  up  their  quarters,  intending  to  begin  the 
campaign  the  next  day.  Bob,  however,  began  that 
night,  by  making  friends  with  the  landlord,  and  play- 
ing euchre  with  him  until  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning.  In  this  way  he  not  only  increased  his 
stock  of  ready  money,  for  the  Southerner  was  no 
match  at  cards  for  the  Western  man,  but  gained  much 
valuable  information  about  the  prison  and  its  com- 
mandant. 


CHAPTER    XXiy. 

Bob  Spenniker  was  an  excellent  listener  and 
possessed  the  art  of  turning  a  confiding  person  inside 
out  without  that  person  suspecting  his  design,  but 
he  was  not  good  at  reporting  what  he  heard. 

"  You  will  have  to  blufl:  it,  boss,  same  as  you  did 
Joe  Johnston,  only  harder,"  was  his  reply  to  John's 
question  concerning  the  prison.  "  The  prisoners  is 
shot  like  skunks  if  they  put  half  an  inch  of  nose 
outside  the  dead  line — so  you  see  how  it  is." 

And  this  was  all  Bob  would  say  for  a  time.  By 
dint  of  many  questions,  however,  John  at  last  learned 
that  Santanelle  was  an  offshoot  of  the  great  prison  at 
Andersonville,  and  contained  about  three  hundred 
prisoners,  guarded  by  thirty  men,  under  command  of 
a  Lieutenant  Catford.  The  post  of  prison  guard  was 
much  hated  by  the  Confederate  soldiers;  desertion 
was  common;  and  even  Lieutenant  Catford,  the  land- 
lord said,  was  sick  of  his  billet,  and  pining  to  be  at 
the  front.  This,  the  most  important  part  of  the  evi- 
dence, Bob  only  mentioned  as  an  afterthought.  What 
had  impressed  him  was  the  landlord's  emphatic  as- 
sertion that  no  one  was  allowed  to  go  over  the  prison, 
because  infectious  diseases  were  too  prevalent  there. 
Bob  was  rouwh,  hard  in  the  grain  and  hardily  reared; 
266 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  267 

but  certain  disclosures  of  the  landlord  had  changed 
his  attitude  toward  the  enterprise  in  a  remarkable 
manner.  Up  to  this  time  the  little  man  had  been 
openly  scornful  that  John  should  spend  money  and 
effort  in  an  attempt  to  rescue  one  man.  Now, 
though  he  said  little,  that  little  was  significant. 

"  I  see  no  road  clear  myself,  but  don't  doubt  it 
will  come  clear  to  you.  Good  luck  to  the  biz.  I 
don't  know  that  I  take  more  pleasure  in  shooting  rebs 
in  a  general  way  than  any  other  whites.  But  after 
what  I've  heard  I  would  like  to  set  some  of  these 
brutes  wriggling  over  a  red-skin's  fire — I  would,  by 
the  Lord!" 

John  sent  Bob  to  the  stable,  to  procure  for  him- 
self the  opportunity  of  quietly  thinking  out  his  plan 
of  campaign.  Bob  retired  nothing  loath,  groomed  the 
horses,  and  gossiped  with  the  barkeeper  until  the  or- 
der came  to  saddle  up.  John  took  the  opportunity, 
remembering  something  Sherman  had  told  him,  to 
walk  into  the  stable  and  reprove  Bob  in  vigorous 
language  for  some  fancied  neglect  of  the  horse.  He 
nearly  spoilt  it  all,  however,  at  the  end  by  laughing 
at  the  intense  astonishment  of  the  little  man. 

"  Your  lieutenant  can  talk,  then,"  the  barkeeper 
said,  after  John  had  stalked  out,  his  sabre  clanking 
royally  over  the  loose  stones.  "  I  thought  by  his 
looks  he  were  an  extraordinary  mild  kind  of  man." 

"  You  make  no  mistake,"  Bob  said  viciously. 
"  He's  the  most  cussed  nigger-driver  ever  I  struck. 
His  father's  overseer  down  in  Louisanny  don't  begin 
to  come  near  him.  I've  seen  him  take  a  nigger's  hide 
off  in  strips  when  he  was  really  riled." 


268       •       THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"Don't  say?"  exclaimed  the  other.  "Then 
Lieutenant  Catford  and  he  will  freeze  at  once." 

"That  man  fond  of  thrashing  niggers?"  ob- 
served Bob  meditatively.  "  You'd  say  so  if  you  saw 
him  with  the  Yanks.  They  run  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  I'm  told.  When  he  first  came,  they  complained 
of  their  grub — as  if  they'd  be  fed  high,  blame  'em! 
when  our  own  boys  have  not  enough!  But  he  stopped 
that." 

"How?" 

Bob  ducked  his  head  behind  one  of  the  horses  to 
hide  his  face.  He  did  not  think  its  expression  was  to 
be  trusted. 

"  Told  'em  that  if  there  was  not  enough  food  he 
had  plenty  of  ammunition,  and  if  they  spoke  again  he'd 
feed  'em  with  that.  This  settled  it.  Since  then  the 
cholera  thinned  'em  down  to  rights.     Good  job,  too." 

Bob  repeated  this  conversation  to  John,  who  said 
nothing,  but  rode  at  a  quicker  pace.  They  were  rid- 
ing toward  the  prison. 

"Going  to  interview  the  lieutenant?"  Bob  re- 
marked casually,  a  little  offended  that  John  said 
nothing  about  his  plans. 

"  Yes.    Remember  you  are  a  Texan." 

"That  so?     An' you?" 

"  I'm  a  subaltern  in  Hardee's  corps,  invalided 
from  active  service."  John  pointed  to  his  forehead, 
carefully  enveloped  in  one  of  the  old  bandages  which 
had  been  preserved  for  the  purpose.  "  I  am  calling 
as  I  pass — that  is  all  at  present.  We  shall  have  to 
see  what  this  man  Catford  is  like  before  we  make  more 
plans." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  269 

The  prison  was  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  at  the  foot 
of  which  lay  the  town  of  Santanelle.  It  was  a  large 
inclosure  or  stockade,  and  above  it,  on  the  side  of  the 
hill,  stood  the  guard-house.  Four  sentries  were  pacing 
along  the  four  sides  of  the  stockade,  and  at  each  angle 
was  a  twelve-pounder  gun.  John  saw  at  a  glance 
that  the  place  was  so  constructed  as  to  be  easily  con- 
trolled by  a  mere  handful  of  armed  men. 

A  sentry  on  duty  at  the  guard-house  directed 
John  to  a  house  a  hundred  yards  away  as  the  lieuten- 
ant's residence.  Here  another  soldier,  who  was  sit- 
ting at  his  ease  on  a  stump,  cutting  up  a  plug  of  to- 
bacco, carelessly  saluted,  and  after  filling  his  pipe 
leisurely  proceeded  to  lead  the  way  in.  He  led 
through  a  narrow  passage,  and,  without  knocking, 
thrust  his  head  into  the  room  beyond.  A  few  words 
passed  in  whispers  in  the  room,  and  then  the  soldier, 
flattening  himself  against  the  wall  to  leave  John  room 
to  pass,  said,  with  a  nod  of  encouragement: 

"  He's  in.     Move  along,  Lieutenant." 

John  moved  on  with  his  best  Southern  swagger, 
leaving  Bob  outside  to  converse  with  the  guard,  and 
found  himself  in  a  small  room  so  full  of  tobacco 
smoke  that  the  man  within  it  was  half  hidden  as  by 
a  fog.  Through  the  smoke  were  to  be  seen  a  pair  of 
bony  legs  covering  the  seats  of  three  chairs,  and  on 
the  fourth  the  body  of  a  sallow-faced  young  man  who 
looked  as  if  he  was  in  an  advanced  stage  of  consump- 
tion. His  uniform  jacket  was  minus  several  important 
buttons,  his  boots  were  unpolished,  his  trousers  un- 
strapped, his  shirt  was  ragged,  while  his  face  and 
hands  were  grimy  to  a  degree.  On  a  table  at  his  right 
18 


270  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

were  a  bottle  of  spirits,  a  tumbler  half  full  of  whisky 
and  water,  and  a  pile  of  yellow-backed  novels,  one  of 
which  he  was  reading.  At  John's  entrance  the  lieu- 
tenant withdrew  his  legs  from  their  supporting  chairs 
and  extended  a  cold,  limp  hand. 

"  I  am  happy  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Lieuten- 
ant Burletson." 

His  voice  was  as  languid  as  his  manner,  but  his 
eyes,  which  seemed  to  contain  in  their  expression  all 
the  vitality  the  rest  of  him  lacked,  said  plainly,  "  And 
what  the  deuce  do  you  want  with  me?  " 

John  bowed  and  shook  hands  in  silence,  consider- 
ing how  he  should  deal  with  this  man.  Bob's  first 
words  this  morning,  "  Bluff  it,  boss,"  occurred  to 
him.  He  felt  that  no  half  measures  would  be  of  the 
least  avail  with  such  a  man. 

"  My  visit  surprises  you,  Lieutenant,"  he  said, 
drawling  his  words  slowly,  with  as  near  an  approach 
to  a  Southern  accent  as  it  was  in  his  power  to  utter. 
*'  That  is  because  you  do  not  know  my  business  here. 
But  you  will  before  long.     I  am  to  take  your  place." 

John  forgot  himself  a  little  here,  and  jerked  out 
the  last  sentence  with  true  Yankee  abruptness;  but 
Catford  did  not  notice  it.  The  significance  of  the 
words  to  him  prevented  all  danger  of  this.  Never  did 
a  random  blow  go  home  with  greater  force.  In  an 
instant  the  languor  of  the  man  had  given  way  to  in- 
tense excitement. 

"  It  has  come  at  last,  then  ?  Take  some  whisky. 
Have  something  to  eat.  This  is  news,  indeed.  Are 
you  from  Richmond?" 

"  Thanks,  I  have  breakfasted,"  John  answered. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  271 

the  steadiness  of  his  voice  in  strong  contrast  to  the 
other's  vehemence.  "  I  am  from  the  front,  from 
Hardee's  corps.  I  was  scalped  by  a  bullet  wound, 
and  they  refused  to  let  me  do  any  more  active  serv- 
ice for  a  while  and  sent  me  here.  You  will  get  au- 
thority from  Eichmond  later  on.  Hardee  was  writ- 
ing there  when  I  left.  You  will  take  my  place  in  the 
regiment." 

"Which?" 

"■  Thirteenth— Hood's  Texans." 

Catford,  who  was  helping  himself  to  some  more 
whisky,  looked  up  with  a  puzzled  air,  and  John  felt 
very  cold. 

"  But  I  thought  those  devils  would  only  fight 
under  a  Western  man." 

"  Wa-al,"  John  said,  smiling,  "  that  is  about  what 
they're  used  to.  I  am  Western  bred,  as  you  see;  but 
necessity  compels  many  things.  Any  man  who'll 
fight  will  do  now." 

Lieutenant  Catford's  face  fell  a  little. 

"  Infernal  queer  men  to  lead,  those." 

"  More  fun  to  be  had  with  them,  though,"  John 
said  dryly,  "  than  guarding  prisoned  Yanks.  But  no 
doubt  that  will  depend  on  the  temperament  of  the 
officer.     It's  more  dangerous." 

Lieutenant  Catford  flushed  angrily.  The  whisky 
had  warmed  his  blood. 

"  If  you  suppose  I'm  scared,"  he  cried,  "  you  don't 
know  who  you  are  speaking  to.  I  am  there,  if  it 
comes  to  leading.  They  shall  find  out,  too,  what  dis- 
cipline means,  and  that  I  know  how  it  should  be 
maintained." 


272  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  Be  careful,"  John  drawled;  "  Texans  ain't  nig- 
gers, you  know." 

Catford  put  down  his  glass  with  a  muttered  oath. 
But  John's  face  was  so  innocent  and  withal  so  firm 
that  he  thought  better  of  what  he  was  going  to  say, 
and  offered  cigars  instead.  John  took  one,  picking 
it  carefully,  though  in  truth  he  knew  little  about 
cigars. 

"  This  life  here,"  he  said,  "  you  find  quiet,  don't 
you?" 

"  It  is  the  dullest  there  is — after  you  have  been 
here  as  long  as  I  have.  A  man  who  likes  his  own 
company  may  get  along.     I  do  not." 

John  nodded  and  then  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
puffed  in  silence,  watching  Catford  under  his  eyelids. 

"  I  want  quiet — or  they  believe  I  do — the  Govern- 
ment, I  mean — and  they  think  you  have  had  enough." 

"  They  are  right,  then,"  Catford  responded,  with 
an  uneasy  laugh.  "  I  would  have  thanked  them  to 
find  out  that  before.     Do  you  know  the  President?  " 

He  lit  a  cigar  as  he  spoke,  and  John  noticed  that 
his  hand  trembled  so  much  that  he  could  hardly  hold 
his  match. 

"  That  is  a  hard  question  for  me  to  answer,"  he 
replied.  "  Perhaps  I  won't  answer  it,  if  you  don't 
mind." 

"  Not  the  least.  How  were  things  going  when 
you  left  the  front?  " 

Catford  spoke  with  a  visible  effort,  and  for  a  short 
time  they  chatted  about  the  chances  of  the  war.  Then 
John  played  his  second  card. 

"  I  will  ask  a  favour  of  you.  Lieutenant." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  273 

"  Anything  I  can  do."  The  tone  was  cordial  even 
to  nervousness. 

"  I  want  to  take  measure  of  what  the  command 
of  this  prison  amounts  to.  If  you  have  time  this 
morning,  will  you  show  me  the  guard-house,  the  place 
where  you  keep  your  prisoners,  and  your  means  of  de- 
fence in  case  of  attack  or  revolt.  I  do  not  know,  of 
course,  how  they  may  settle  things  at  Eichmond;  but 
if  they  approve  my  appointment  here  they  will  want 
you  at  once,  and  I  should  like  to  be  prepared." 

Lieutenant  Catford  played  with  his  cigar  and 
frowned.     "Who  was  this  man?" 

"  I  fear  that  is  out  of  my  power.  Eegulations  for- 
bid it,  unless  you  can  show  me  written  authority  from 
the  President." 

This  was  a  facer  for  John.  Yet  his  need  was 
desperate. 

"  Excuse  me,  I  question  that.  Show  me  the 
order." 

The  lieutenant  did  not  answer,  and  John  fol- 
lowed up  his  advantage. 

"  As  commander  here  you  have  a  right  to  exercise 
your  discretion.  I  am  aware  of  that.  But  I  have 
mentioned  the  name  of  my  general;  and  I  could  give 
you  others."  He  paused,  but  still  there  was  no  reply. 
Catford  was  biting  his  finger  nails  in  hesitation. 
John  put  down  his  cigar  and  took  up  his  sword. 

"  I  will  wish  you  good-day.  Lieutenant."  His 
manner  was  frigidly  dignified,  his  voice  as  severe  as 
he  could  make  it. 

Catford  did  not  meet  his  eye. 

"  Sit  down  again;  we  will  talk  it  over,"  he  said. 


274  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

John  turned  on  his  heel.  "  I  see  nothing  to  talk 
about,  sir.  You  have  made  a  mistake,  but  that  is 
your  business.     Good-morning." 

Catford  gathered  himself  together  with  a  deject- 
ed air. 

"  I  will  do  what  you  ask.  After  all,  you  may  as 
well  see  what  a  God-forsaken  hole  this  is,  and  the 
dogs  that  live  and  die  in  it.  My  chief  reason  for  put- 
ting you  off,  if  you  wish  to  know  it,  was  a  fear  lest 
the  place  should  sicken  you  and  my  chance  of  escape 
be  lost." 

"  No  danger  of  that.  My  orders  are  too  strict. 
When  shall  I  come?  " 

"This  afternoon,  at  three.     You'll  lunch  here?" 

But  John  declined,  though  with  politeness.  He 
wanted  fresh  air  and  leisure  to  think  and  plan.  He 
had  indeed  "  bluffed  it,"  and  his  ideas  required  alto- 
gether rearranging.  Before  this  talk  his  inspec- 
tion of  the  prison  would  have  been  by  the  favour  of 
the  commandant.  Now  he  saw  that  he  must  assume 
command.  Catford  feared  him  for  some  reason. 
Tliis  must  be  made  the  most  of.  Yet  how  to  work  it 
into  practical  results? 

John  found  the  lieutenant  waiting  for  him  when 
he  arrived  at  the  appointed  time.  Catford  looked 
smarter  and  more  soldierly,  having  dressed  himself 
with  some  care.  But  the  same  uneasy  shiftiness  was 
in  his  eyes.  His  men  looked  discontented,  to  the 
point  of  mutiny.  Their  guard-house  was  a  poor 
place;  the  bedding  dirty,  the  supply  of  food  John 
found  scanty  and  irregular.  If  this  was  the  condi- 
tion of  the  jailers,  he  thought,  what  must  be  that  of 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  275 

the  prisoners?  The  system  of  defence  was  explained 
by  Catford  in  detail,  and  from  the  complacency  of 
his  tone  it  was  evident  that  he  felt  himself  upon  safe 
ground. 

"  We  have  been  extra-careful  lately.  There  are 
rumours  that  Sherman  may  make  a  dash  for  us  on 
the  way  to  Andersonville.  If  he  does,  the  Yanks 
here  will  wish  he'd  stayed  away.  I  will  show  you 
why,  presently.  As  it  is,  we  have  had  to  make  sev- 
eral examples,  some  of  the  fools  thinking  we  are 
afraid  of  their  slop-pail  army.  That  is  easy.  The 
trouble  is  keeping  the  brutes  alive.  I  tried  to 
do  something  for  them  when  I  first  took  command, 
but  it  was  no  good,  j^ow  I  am  as  hard  as  nails, 
and  would  as  lief  blow  them  all  up  to-morrow.  As 
it  is,  they  die  off  like  rotten  sheep.  Come  and  see 
them." 

The  stockade  was  twelve  feet  high,  an  impassable 
wall  of  timber,  within  which  was  a  railing  spiked  at 
the  top,  and  within  the  railing  which  inclosed  an 
acre  of  ground  were  the  prisoners.  The  reports  Bob 
had  brought  and  the  hints  Catford  dropped  made 
John  brace  himself  to  see  anything  with  calmness, 
however  loathsome  or  heart-breaking  it  might  be. 
But  when  the  reality  was  before  him  it  required  all  his 
self-control  to  prevent  an  exclamation  then  and  there 
of  grief  and  rage.  It  was  fortunate  that  both  Cat- 
ford and  his  men  were  too  much  accustomed  to  what 
they  saw  to  watch  closely  any  effect  it  might  have 
upon  a  visitor.  Catford  wished  to  get  the  inspection 
over  as  soon  as  possible,  walked  quickly  through  the 
throng  of  prisoners,  who  shrank  back  to  let  him  pass, 


276  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

and  stared  vacantly  at  the  man  at  his  heel  in  Confed- 
erate uniform. 

Three  hundred  men,  houseless  and  shelterless, 
huddled  together  like  cattle  in  stock-yards  on  the  bare 
patch  of  ground.  That  was  what  John  saw.  They 
were  without  bedding,  and  were  destitute  of  decent 
clothing.  All  day  long  the  fierce  sun  poured  down 
on  their  unfortunate  heads,  or  they  were  drenched  by 
storms  of  rain.  Their  food  was  a  little  bacon  and 
corn  meal,  often  mouldy  and  unfit  to  eat;  their  only 
drink,  water  from  a  stream  which  trickled  through 
the  inclosure,  and  was  thereby  rendered  for  the  most 
part  noisome  and  bad.  Washing  was  out  of  the 
question.  The  place  reeked  with  abominable  odours; 
nearly  every  face  was  discoloured  by  disease  or  poi- 
soned blood.  Through  this  living  mass  of  suffering 
John  was  hurried  by  Catford  and  his  men,  and  so 
stunned  was  he  by  what  he  saw  that  they  had  brought 
him  back  to  the  gates  again  before  he  remembered 
that  whatever  happened  he  must  find  out  if  Seth  were 
still  alive. 

"  "Wait  for  me,"  he  said,  stopping  short.  "  I  need 
no  guard,  and  will  be  back  again  in  a  few  minutes. 
Leave  me  alone — I  must  see  these  things  for  my=elf." 

Then  he  strode  away,  leaving  the  lieutenant  and 
his  men  looking  at  one  another  in  amazement.  The 
sergeant  of  the  guard  would  have  followed,  but  Cat- 
ford  called  him  back. 

"  No,"  he  said  nervously,  "  let  him  go  where  he 
pleases — let  him  go." 

So  John  went  alone.  Had  the  whole  guard  been 
at  his  side,  however,  they  would  not  have  stopped  him 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  277 

now.  He  was  in  a  white  heat  of  fury  at  what  he  had 
seen,  and  for  the  time  was  careless  whether  he  be- 
trayed himself.  To  and  fro  he  wandered  among  the 
crowd,  searching  among  the  filth  and  misery  and 
blank  despair  for  the  face  he  knew.  Nowhere  could 
he  find  Seth,  and  at  last  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  Seth  was  dead.  He  stood  still,  and  looked  round 
once  more,  slowly.  Had  his  quest  come  to  nothing, 
after  all?  Must  he  go  home  to  Jean  and  tell  her — 
this?  He  was  at  the  end  of  the  inclosure  farthest  from 
the  gates.  No — Seth  was  not  here.  He  turned  to  go, 
when  some  one  plucked  at  him  from  behind,  and  a 
lad  who  looked  barely  fifteen  said: 

"  A  man  would  speak  to  ye.  Says  he  knows  ye — 
will  you  come  ?  " 

John,  in  his  relief,  could  not  answer,  but  signed  to 
the  boy  to  show  him  the  way,  and  then  saw  Seth, 
white  and  very  thin,  lying  against  the  railing. 

John  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  while  the  crowd 
around  him  stared  and  whispered. 

"  You  know  me,  Seth?  " 

"  I  thought  it  must  be  you,"  he  answered  faintly. 
"John,  have  you  turned?" 

"  I-have  put  this  on  to  come  and  look  for  you.  It 
was  the  only  way  I  could  get  here." 

"  You  are  too  late,  old  friend." 

"Why  so?" 

"  I  cannot  walk.  It  will  be  cholera  very  soon. 
The  same  as  the  rest.     I'll  never  see  Jean  again." 

John  bent  down  until  his  lips  touched  Seth's  ear. 

"  Take  heart  and  strength.  You'll  be  free  in  less 
than  a  week,  and  not  only  you  but  evory  one  here.    I 


278  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

came  to  save  you  alone,  but  now,  so  help  me  God,  I 
will  not  leave  this  place  until  it  is  in  ruins!  " 

He  wrung  Seth's  hand,  passed  quickly  through 
the  crowd  again,  and  rejoined  Lieutenant  Catford. 

"  I  have  seen  all  I  want,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  Jeffer- 
son Davis  might  have  used.  "  You  may  close  the 
gates." 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

Lieutenant  Catford  and  his  sergeant  looked  at 
John  with  enrious  eyes. 

"  Prisoners  interest  yon? "  the  former  said,  as 
they  walked  away  together. 

"  If  they  did  not,"  was  the  rejoinder,  "  I  should 
not  have  come  to  relieve  yon.  I  got  my  wound 
through  a  bit  of  service  which  my  commander  rated 
at  more  than  it  deserved.  I  chose  the  billet  here,  be- 
cause I  wanted  to  take  hold  of  a  Yank  prison.  Show 
me  the  plan  you  mentioned  for  cheating  Sherman  if 
he  tried  to  jump  the  place." 

Catford  bit  his  nails  again  with  indecision,  but 
the  confidence  and  authority  of  John's  tone  awed 
him. 

A  few  yards  from  the  stockade,  in  full  sight  of  the 
guard-house  but  some  distance  from  it,  was  a  small 
wooden  hut.  The  lieutenant  went  there  and  un- 
locked the  door,  which  was  unusually  heavy,  and  a 
peculiar  sulphurous  odour  filled  John's  nostrils. 
The  place  was  dark;  the  one  window  it  possessed 
closed  with  a  shutter.  Catford  lighted  a  lamp  of 
the  kind  used  by  coal-miners,  and  unbolted  a  trap- 
door which  covered  most  of  the  space  inside  the  hut. 

"  Come  down,"  he  said,  "  and  see  for  yourself." 

279 


280  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

They  descended  a  ladder  to  the  depth  of  several 
feet,  and  were  in  a  long,  low  passage  filled  with 
barrels. 

"  Gunpowder,"  Catford  said  with  a  modest  pride. 
"  At  the  first  report  of  a  Yankee  advance  on  Santa- 
nelle  the  fuse  will  be  lighted.  The  stockade  is  above 
us — you  see!  " 

"  Do  the  prisoners  know?  " 

"  Certainly.  I  told  them  all  about  it,  to  prevent 
surprise  when  the  time  came.  It  is  my  own  inven- 
tion, though  they  tell  me  there  is  one  on  a  larger  scale 
at  Libby.  General  Winder,  at  Andersonville,  has 
given  instructions  that  when  Sherman  is  within  seven 
miles  of  that  place  his  men  are  to  open  fire  upon  the 
stockade  with  grape.  I  think  my  way  is  far  neater. 
It  has  had  a  wonderful  moral  effect  already.  You 
should  have  seen  the  faces  of  the  cusses  when  I  men- 
tioned it.     Will  it  do?" 

John  had  not  made  any  remark  since  they  en- 
tered the  hut,  and  Catford  found  the  silence  oppres- 
sive. 

"  It  is  interesting.     How  did  you  dig  it  out?  " 

"  N"iggers,"  Catford  said  with  a  grin.  "  They  did 
not  relish  the  work  much,  but  we  found  a  way  to 
persuade  them.  Let  us  get  out  of  it  now;  the  air  is 
choking." 

He  led  the  way  up  the  ladder,  which  John  behind 
his  back  examined  carefully.  It  was  an  ordinary 
builder's  ladder  and  could  be  pulled  up  or  down  by 
one  pair  of  arms. 

*' Anything  else  you  would  like  to  see?" 

"  Guess  not — thanks." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  £81 

"  Then  come  and  have  a  drink.  This  is  terrible 
thirsty  weather." 

John  acquiesced  absently.  Half  way  to  the  lieu- 
tenant's quarters  he  stopped  short. 

"  Will  you  sup  with  me  to-night  ?  " 

"  ]S[o — come  here.  I  cannot  leave  my  post.  Bad 
example  to  my  men." 

John  thought  of  the  stories  Bob  had  told  him  of 
Catford's  night  escapades. 

"  As  you  like,"  he  said,  after  reflection.  "  But 
we  must  share  the  thing.  I  will  send  my  man  to  the 
hotel  for  the  wine." 

Bob  had  to  be  found  first.  He  was  discovered 
playing  cards  with  the  men  off  duty.  Already  he 
was  a  favourite  among  them,  and  was  telling  stories 
now  in  the  broadest  Western  dialect.  He  went  upon 
the  errand  with  great  alacrity,  and  returned  loaded 
with  sherry,  whisky,  and  a  bottle  of  champagne. 

Under  the  influence  of  the  wine  Catford  warmed 
to  something  like  enthusiasm,  and  confided  to  his 
new  acquaintance  much  of  his  personal  history  more 
peculiar  than  creditable. 

The  officers  of  the  Confederate  army  as  a  whole 
were  gentlemen  and  men  of  honour.  The  tone  set 
by  their  leaders — Generals  Lee,  Jackson,  and  John- 
ston and  J.  E.  B.  Stuart — was  so  good  that  their  sub- 
ordinates would  have  been  of  bad  material  indeed 
had  they  not  been  influenced  by  such  noble  examples 
of  high  breeding  and  purity  of  living.  But  there 
were  exceptions,  as  must  happen  in  every  body  of 
men,  and  the  lower  class  of  Confederate  subaltern 
was  neither  a  credit  to  his  country  nor  a  joy  to  his 


282  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

fellow-officers.  John  listened  in  silence.  Catford 
and  his  history  were  supremely  indifferent  to  him, 
but  that  the  man  should  talk  suited  the  purpose 
which  the  awful  sights  of  this  afternoon  had  planted 
in  his  heart.  The  prison  must  be  destroyed;  the  men 
in  it  rescued  from  their  living  death.  While  Cat- 
ford  talked  and  drank,  John  sipped  slowly  at  his  wine 
and  thought.  The  hours  slipped  by,  and  still  Cat- 
ford  talked — about  himself — and  John  listened,  mak- 
ing plans.  But  the  lieutenant  had  a  well-seasoned 
head,  and  it  was  long  before  the  liquor  overcame 
him.  x\bout  midnight,  however,  he  was  growing 
very  tipsy. 

"  Burletson,  my  boy,"  he  hiccoughed  solemnly, 
"  do  you  know  the  best  thing  I  ever  did  in  my  life 
for  my  country?  I  have  done  many  things,  but  this 
is  the  greatest  of  all — the  mine — the  mine  beneath 
the  prison."  He  wagged  a  forefinger  at  John.  "  I 
will  tell  you  why.  If  Sherman  knew  what  I  know, 
this  place  would  not  be  safe  a  day,  nor  half  a  day. 
Think  of  that!  " 

"  If  Sherman  knew,"  John  said  slowly,  "  if  he 
knew — what  ?  " 

Catford  chuckled. 

"  Why,  that  all  the  way  from  here  to  Kenesaw 
there  is  a  clear  road  only  guarded  by  a  single  picket — 
not  a  brigade,  not  a  regiment,  not  a  company,  with- 
in ten  miles." 

"  It  is  sixty  miles  to  Kenesaw." 

"  What's  sixty  miles  to  cavalry?  " 

"  The  Yanks  would  raise  the  country  upon  them, 
and  cut  off  their  own  retreat." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  283 

"  Not  if  they  rode  by  night.  Oh,  I  have  thought 
it  all  out.  I  figured  it  on  my  map,  and  I  dug  that 
mine.  Sherman  may  come  if  he  dares  now.  I'll  send 
the  whole  three  hundred  Yanks  to  glory.  I  am 
bound  to  be  too  smart  for  'em.  What  is  a  Yank  to  a 
Southerner  for  brains?  We've  the  best  blood  in  the 
world,  sir.  We're  masters  of  this  continent,  and  will 
be  always,  I  don't  care  how  the  war  goes.  Doubt 
my  word — do  you  doubt  it  ?  " 

He  was  becoming  quarrelsome  now,  and  banged 
his  fist  on  the  table. 

"  Show  it  me  on  the  map,"  John  said,  "  and  I'll 
believe  you." 

"  There's  one  on  that  shelf.  Bring  it  along;  I 
can't,  the  wine  has  got  into  my  legs.  Not  in  my 
head,  though,  not  in  my  head.  Get  it — there's  a 
good  chap." 

John  did  so  and  spread  out  a  map  of  Georgia,  a 
better  one  than  he  had  ever  seen  before,  upon  the 
table. 

"  Where's  Sherman  now?  Not  far  from  Atlanta? 
Curse  him.  Where's  the  road?  Here.  Eun  your  eye 
along  it.  I'm  drunk,  am  I?  Gad!  I  know  more 
than  you,  my  boy,  though  you  think  you're  sober." 

John  glanced  at  the  map,  rolled  it  up,  and  went 
back  to  his  chair. 

"  You  are  right." 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  Catford  said  with  a  chuckle. 
"Have  some  more  drink  and  I'll  tell  you  another 
story,  the  best  of  all.  A  yellow  girl  this  time.  A 
rattler  she  be,  by  gum — as  the  niggers  say.  Fill  your 
glass,  man,  full.    You  don't  drink  worth  a  cent." 


284  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

John  did  as  lie  was  told,  and  his  wrist  brushed 
against  the  map,  which  rolled  on  the  floor  at  his  feet. 
Catford  began  his  story.  But  he  was  getting  drowsy 
now  and  lost  the  thread  of  his  narrative.  He  began 
again,  laughing  at  himself,  while  John  drank  the  wine 
he  had  poured  out,  and  rose  from  his  chair. 

"  You  are  not  going  back  to  the  hotel?  " 

"  Starting  now — good-night." 

Catford  laughed  uproariously. 

"  Be  oft'  then,  and  be  hanged!  Pity  you  have  not 
a  stronger  head.  If  I  could  carry  no  more  than  you, 
I'd  shoot  myself.     See  you  to-morrow." 

He  waved  his  hand,  and  John,  with  one  keen  look 
at  the  man  as  he  tried  to  fill  a  glass  which  he  was  hold- 
ing upside  down,  nodded  to  himself,  and  left  the 
room. 

He  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  when  he  was  outside,  and 
drew  a  deep  breath  of  the  cool  night  air.  Where  was 
Bob?  Card-playing,  probably.  But  John  did  the 
little  man  injustice.  He  had  not  gone  a  dozen  steps 
toward  the  guard-house  before  he  saw  by  the  dim 
light  a  figure  holding  the  horses. 

"  What  is  the  luck,  boss?  " 

"  The  best.     Where  have  you  been?  " 

"■  Oh,  among  them,"  pointing  with  his  thumb  be- 
hind him.  "  I  had  a  high  old  time,  but  this  is  a  rot- 
ten place,  and  the  men  are  worse." 

"They  don't  suspect  you?" 

"Me?  Why,  in  the  whole  crowd  you  could  not 
find  such  a  reb  as  me.  Ask  any  of  'em.  What  have 
you  determined  on?" 

They  had  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  home. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  2S5 

"  Are  you  up  to  a  hard  ride  ? "  John  said,  by 
way  of  answer. 

"Am  I  not?" 

"  When  does  the  moon  rise?  " 

"  In  an  hour." 

"  I  shall  want  you  to  ride  to  our  lines  with  a  note 
to  Sherman  and  a  map  I  will  give  you.  Take  my 
horse,  as  he  is  the  strongest,  and  make  all  the  speed 
you  can.  There  is  not  time  for  me  to  give  you  all 
the  details,  but  I  intend  to  take  this  place,  and  if  the 
general  follows  out  my  ideas  I  hope  you  will  be  back 
here  in  two  days  with  men  enough  to  cut  the  guard 
to  pieces." 

Bob  gave  a  grim  laugh. 

"I  am  in  it."  Then  a  sudden  thought  struck 
him.  "How  about  you?  I  can't  leave  you  welter- 
ing here." 

"  You  must.  If  I  can  fix  things,  you  may  find 
me  here  in  command  when  you  return.  Any  way,  I 
shall  be  somewhere  near  that  hut  back  of  the  stock- 
ade. They  have  laid  a  mine  from  it  underneath  the 
stockade,  and  we  must  set  a  guard  over  the  place  be- 
fore anything  else  is  done.  Eemember  that  when 
you  get  back  with  the  boys." 

Bob  swore  a  heavy  oath. 

"  See  here,  boss,  you  must  change  this  thing 
round." 

"How?" 

"  You  go — I  stay.  I  will  ride  over  to  the  lieu- 
tenant in  the  morning  and  say  you  had  orders  to  join 
the  regiment  and  will  write  him.  Anything  will  do. 
I  do  not  leave  you  at  the  cannon's  mouth  this  way. 
19 


2S6  THE   GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL. 

S'pose  they  get  wind?  Why,  they'd  burn  you  in  oil! 
You  should  have  heard  what  I  did  'bout  what  hap- 
pened to  a  nigger  who  helped  a  prisoner  to  escape 
a  while  back.  Your  idea  is  rank  foolishness.  I  came 
to  stay  by  you,  and  I  wont  go." 

"  You  will,"  said  John,  in  his  quickest  tone.  "  I 
must  remain,  because  the  man  I  sought  is  here  lying 
sick.    Trust  me.  Bob,  to  see  to  my  own  skin." 

"  That  I  will  not." 

"  Yes.  But  here  we  are  at  the  hotel.  Stay  out- 
side while  I  go  in  and  write  the  letter.  They  must 
not  see  you  leave.     Can  you  find  your  way." 

"  Can  I  ride  a  horse?  We've  been  here  but  two 
days.    What  kind  of  a  handful  do  you  take  me  for?  " 

John  found  the  hall  of  the  hotel  empty;  he  heard 
some  late  drinkers  at  the  bar,  but  reached  his  room 
without  attracting  notice  from  any  one,  and  wrote  his 
letter. 

"  See  that  the  boys  reach  here  at  night,"  John 
said,  handing  Bob  a  parcel.  "  Come  in  alone  first. 
If  you  do  not  find  me  near  the  mine,  you  will  know 
there  is  something  wrong  aiid  can  judge  yourself  what 
to  do  next.  If  the  general  will  not  risk  it,  come  back 
and  we  will  work  it  ourselves.  I  know  you  will 
not  fail  me." 

Bob  gave  a  short,  hoarse  laugh. 

"  If  I  do,  I'm  d— d  !    Good-bye." 

He  touched  his  horse  lightly  with  M'hip  and  spur, 
and  was  out  of  sight  in  a  moment. 

John  did  not  ride  over  to  the  prison  until  the 
afternoon  of  the  next  day.  To  his  surprise  he  heard 
from  the  sentry  that  the  lieutenant  was  breakfasting. 


THE   GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  287 

He  found  Catford  trying  to  eat,  looldng  very  ghastly 
after  his  debauch,  a  mass  of  official  correspondence 
before  him.  There  was  a  coolness  and  stiffness 
in  his  manner  John  did  not  like. 

"  1  have  heard  from  Richmond,"  he  said,  playing 
with  his  cup,  looking  stealthily  at  John. 

''That  so?    What  news?" 

"  Nothing  like  what  you  led  me  to  believe."  He 
paused  to  munch  a  piece  of  bread  and  watch  the 
effect  of  his  words.  John  did  not  move  or  take  his 
eyes  from  his  face. 

"  Well,  what  do  they  say?  " 

"  Why,  that  another  man  is  coming  to  relieve  me, 
not  you  at  all.     That  is  queer." 

Catford's  eyes  were  peculiarly  alive. 

John  smiled  sarcastically. 

"  I  am  not  surprised.     What  is  his  name?  " 

"  Lieutenant  Cunnington;  aide  to  Johnston.  I 
know  something  about  him.  He  was  in  trouble  a 
short  time  since  through  the  loss  of  important  de- 
spatches. He  don't  come  from  Hardee  at  all.  Did 
you  ever  meet  him?  " 

Catford  asked  this  question  as  an  afterthought. 
He  saw  John's  mouth  twitch. 

"  Cunnington?  The  name  is  familiar.  When 
does  he  come?  " 

"  To-day." 

"  If  it  is  the  man  I  know,"  John  said,  smiling 
again,  "  he  will  be  glad  to  see  me  here." 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

Lieutenant  Catford  was  perplexed  when  he  re- 
ceived his  mail,  but  the  conversation  with  John  puz- 
zled him  still  more.  Who  and  what  was  this  Burlet- 
son?  The  letter  from  Richmond  was  simply  a  for- 
mal order  that  on  the  1st  day  of  July  Lieutenant 
Catford  was  to  surrender  command  of  Santanelle 
prison  to  Lieutenant  Ralph  Cunnington  and  report 
himself  to  General  Johnston,  commander  of  the  army 
in  Georgia.  When  Catford  first  read  the  letter  he  set 
John  down  as  a  fraud  of  the  first  water.  He  felt  it 
only  remained  to  find  out  whether  he  was  the  victim 
of  a  practical  joke,  or  whether — his  blood  ran  cold  at 
the  thought — whether  this  pretended  subaltern  in 
the  thirteenth  Texas  regiment  was  a  spy!  Just  as 
the  horrible  idea  occurred  to  him,  John  came  in. 
Catford's  nerves  were  thoroughly  out  of  order,  and 
his  brain  muddy  and  confused  with  last  night's  de- 
bauch. John's  coolness,  his  evident  acquaintance 
with  Cunnington,  extinguished  the  fear  that  he  was  a 
Yankee  in  disguise  and  aroused  a  new  suspicion  that 
had  been  in  Catford's  mind  the  day  before.  A  spy 
he  still  believed  him  to  be — but  from  Richmond,  not 
from  the  enemy.  Catford  knew  that  he  was  not  in 
favour  in  high  places.  Some  time  before,  when  he 
388 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  289 

had  comjDlained  bitterly  to  friends  at  Eichmond  of 
his  long  exile  at  Santanelle,  he  had  been  warned  that 
if  he  did  not  wish  to  lose  his  commission  he  had  bet- 
ter remain  quiet,  and  it  was  hinted  that  certain  facts 
of  his  past  life  had  become  known  to  Jefferson  Davis. 
The  President  of  the  Confederacy  was  a  man  of 
strong  prejudices  and  accustomed  to  act  in  a  very 
arbitrary  fashion  where  his  feelings  were  aroused. 
"NMiat  if  this  Burletson  were  an  emissary  from  him; 
instructed  to  examine  the  condition  of  the  prison  and 
its  defences  and  the  conduct  of  its  commander  ?  Cat- 
ford  shuddered  at  the  thought,  and  when  his  visitor, 
after  some  general  conversation,  said  that  he  wished 
to  see  the  stockade  again,  he  gave  permission  with  a 
readiness  that  he  trusted  would  have  a  beneficial 
effect. 

"  Go  anywhere — do  anything  you  please,"  he  said, 
with  a  ghastly  attempt  at  cordiality.  "  I  will  give 
orders  to  my  servants  to  show  you  around.  There  is 
nothing  you  may  not  see." 

John  thanked  him,  and,  determining  to  make  the 
most  of  his  time,  asked  for  the  key  of  the  mine.  Cat- 
ford  gave  it,  accompanied  him  to  the  guard-house, 
and  issued  the  necessary  orders  to  his  men. 

The  sergeant,  a  short,  surly-faced  Georgian,  gave 
a  significant  grunt  as  he  went  with  John  to  the 
stockade. 

"  He  gives  you  leave  to  do  what  he's  never  done 
himself  till  yesterday." 

"  Never  been  in  the  stockade  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  don't  care  if  you  know  it,  and  a  little 
more,  too.     How  long  will  you  be  around  here?  " 


290  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  That  depends  upon  my  instructions." 

"  Strong-constitutioned  man,  ain't  you?  " 

"■  You  mean  this  place  is  not  a  healthy  one?  " 

"  The  most  ow-healthy  in  creation." 

"  Prisoners  seem  sick." 

"  Oh,  hlame  the  prisoners! "  the  sergeant  said  ir- 
ritably, "  I  mean  us  boys.  We  have  nothing  to  eat; 
nothing  to  do;  no  fun,  and  no  fighting;  naught  but 
dirt  and  Yankee  funerals  all  day  and  stinks  all  night. 
He's  well  fixed,"  with  a  turn  of  the  head  toward  the 
lieutenant's  quarters.  "  Officers  don't  starve,  you 
bet.  But  I  tell  you  it's  tough  for  the  men.  If  wc  did 
not  take  some  of  what  they  send  for  the  Yanks,  we'd 
not  get  along  at  all.  You  did  not  know  it?"  look- 
ing shrewdly  at  John.  "  Fact.  Tell  'em  so  in  Eich- 
mond  if  you  like.     I  'spose  you  are  from  there  ?  " 

"  Ask  your  lieutenant,"  was  the  reply. 

They  were  at  the  stockade  gates  now,  where  the 
sentry  saluted  John,  who  left  a  gold  coin — Confed- 
erate, given  him  by  Sherman — in  the  sergeant's  hand. 
He  then  sauntered  slowly  through  the  inclosure, 
looking  at  the  groups  of  prisoners,  speaking  to  one 
here  and  there,  as  if  he  were  making  a  close  inspec- 
tion, until  he  came  to  the  far  end,  and  to  Seth,  whom 
he  found  more  comfortable  than  he  had  left  him. 
The  attentions  the  prisoners  had  seen  him  receive 
from  a  reb  officer,  coupled  with  the  mysterious  rumour 
that  had  got  abroad  of  help  and  rescue,  had  caused 
them  to  cultivate  Seth's  acquaintance.  A  bed  of  tat- 
tered clothing  had  been  made  for  him,  and  some  food 
found.  When  John  sat  down  by  his  side  and  drew 
from  his  pocket  a  pot  of  beef  jelly,  slices  of  chicken 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  291 

and  bread,  and  a  flask  of  brandy,  the  speculation 
among  the  prisoners  began  to  grow  feverish. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  reb  do  that  before?  "  one  said 
to  his  neighbour. 

"  No,  nor  do  I  now.     He  ain't  a  reb!  " 

"  He  must  be." 

"  I  will  bet  you  a  week's  rations  he's  not.  If 
he  were,  wouldn't  he  find  a  way  of  pulling  that  cuss 
outside.     He's  a  spy." 

"  Good  luck  to  him  then!  " 

"  Oh,  blast  him  and  all  the  rest  of  our  boys!  Why 
don't  they  exchange  us,  or  send  Sherman  round  this 
way?  No  one  cares,  I  tell  you.  They  let  us  sicken 
and  die  like  flies.  Damn  them — Government,  Lin- 
coln, and  all! " 

"  Hush  ye! — ^he's  goin'  to  speak." 

John  was  beckoning  to  them. 

"  Boys,  crowd  round  me  so  that  the  guard  can't 
see  us.     Then  listen — I  am  a  Union  man." 

At  first  they  looked  at  him  with  blank  faces; 
then  one  moved  forward,  then  another,  until  a  com- 
pact press  of  bodies  surrounded  him. 

"  Before  midnight  to-morrow,"  John  said  in  a 
low  voice,  "  I  hope  one  hundred  of  Sherman's  boys 
will  have  reached  this  place  and  set  you  free.  I  did 
not  mean  to  tell  you  beforehand,  as  these  things  are 
never  to  be  depended  upon,  and  I  thought  I  would  be 
here  to  bring  the  boys  along;  but  I  find  now  that  I 
shall  be  discovered  before  then.  I  want  you  to  know 
that  I  have  the  key  to  the  mine  that  runs  beneath  and 
that  I  intend  to  stay  and  hold  it  as  long  as  I  am  alive. 
The  other  danger  for  vou  is  the  jruard.     Don't  give 


292  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

them  any  excuse  to  fire.  That  is  the  great  point. 
Keep  quiet  and  let  the  boys  come  to  you.  Whatever 
happens,  don't  try  to  get  to  them.  Above  all,  the 
rebs  must  not  have  a  notion  that  you  know  anything; 
and  make  no  noise,  show  no  excitement,  until  our 
boys  have  pulled  those  gates  apart." 

He  knelt  beside  Seth  again,  while  what  he  had 
said  spread  from  man  to  man  until  all  the  three  hun- 
dred knew.  Most  of  them  did  not  believe  it,  but  some 
— those  nearest  to  him — were  convinced  that  it  was 
true,  and  as  John  talked  with  Seth,  these  men  came 
one  by  one  and  shook  hands  with  him.  They  said 
nothing,  but  many  were  crying.  All  understood  that 
if  their  freedom  came  it  would  be  paid  for  with  his 
life. 

It  was  a  strange  ending  to  what  John  had  come  to 
do.  The  day  before,  had  there  been  time,  Seth 
would  have  sent  his  last  message  to  Jean;  now  it  was 
Seth  who  would  live,  for  he  was  only  suffering  from 
weakness  and  bitter  homesickness.  It  was  John 
who  must  die.  He  might  have  thought  about  saving 
his  own  life  but  for  the  mine  and  the  fear  that  his 
sudden  absence  would  create  suspicion  on  the  part  of 
the  prison  guard!  The  mine  settled  the  matter.  At 
any  risk,  it  must  be  closed  up  and  held,  or  all  his 
plans  would  be  frustrated.  He  had  little  time  for 
leave-taking,  but  between  the  hand-grips  from  the 
prisoners  he  managed  to  give  Seth  his  few  brief 
words  for  those  in  Chippewa. 

"  Tell  mother,  with  my  love,  that  I  don't  worry, 
because  I  know  that  she  will  feel  things  are  right; 
and  after  the  first  shock  is  past  be  glad  I  died  in  this 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  293 

way.  She  will  have  Jean,  thank  God.  You  will 
not  separate  those  two!  I  know  you  won't.  You 
need  not  tell  me.  As  to  Jean,  I  do  not  know  that  I 
wish  you  to  say  anything.  She  is  yours — not  mine. 
Wait — there  is  just  this."  His  voice  was  a  whisper 
now.  "  Tell  her  that  when  I  started  for  you  I  did 
not  expect  much  to  get  back  again,  but  I  went  be- 
cause I  could  not  see  her  break  her  heart.  I  loved 
her  more  than  all  the  world.  There,  I  did  not  mean 
to  say  it.  But  it  don't  matter.  You  won't  tell  her 
that.  Now  I  must  go,  or  they  will  be  seeking  me. 
Heart  up,  man.  Don't  give  way  now — don't  think  of 
me;  think  of  to-morrow  when  the  boys  march  in." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  as  he  walked  out  there 
was  a  smile  on  his  face  that  Seth  will  remember  until 
his  last  day  comes. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

John  found  the  sergeant  waiting  for  him  at  the 
gates  of  the  stockade.  It  had  reached  the  men  that 
this  officer  was  on  a  tour  of  inspection  from  Rich- 
mond, and  as  none  of  them  bore  any  good  will  toward 
their  commander,  they  were  more  than  ready  to  as- 
sist the  stranger's  inquiries.  The  sergeant  was  his 
sworn  ally. 

"  Any  kind  of  thing  you  want  to  know  or  see,  I 
will  put  you  on  in  a  flick,"  he  said. 

John  did  not  reply.  He  was  watching  a  man  on 
horseback,  who  was  approaching  them  from  the  town 
at  a  smart  pace. 

"Have  you  a  key  to  the  mine?"  John  said  sud- 
denly. "  I  was  down  yesterday,  and  wish  to  look  at  it 
again." 

The  sergeant  took  out  a  bunch  and  fumbled  with 
it,  while  the  horseman  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
John  saw  the  sunlight  glance  on  the  scabbard  of  a 
sword. 

"  You  will  let  me  have  it  back,"  the  sergeant  said, 
wrenching  the  key  free.  "  There  is  but  two,  and  this 
lock  is  of  a  peculiar  make." 

John  nodded,  took  the  key,  and  began  to  walk 
toward  the  hut.  The  horseman  was  Cunnington 
294 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  295 

himself  and  had  turned  in  his  direction.  But  John 
was  close  to  the  mine,  and,  slouching  his  hat  over  his 
eyes,  he  quickened  his  pace,  unlocked  the  door,  and 
stepped  inside  before  the  lieutenant  recognised 
him.  Keeping  the  door  ajar,  he  heard  Cunnington 
address  the  sergeant  and  then  trot  off  to  Catford's 
quarters.  The  danger  was  over  for  the  moment,  but 
discovery  and  detection  would  only  be  a  matter  of 
minutes,  for  his  name  was  known  to  both  the  men. 
How  to  make  the  mine  stand  a  siege?  It  was  hope- 
less. He  shut  the  door,  lighted  the  lantern,  and  in- 
spected the  hut.  Nothing  was  in  it  but  a  barrel  of 
gunpowder;  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  trap-door, 
threw  it  open,  descended  the  ladder,  and  measured  the 
distance  to  the  bottom  of  the  mine.  It  was  ten  feet. 
He  climbed  up  again  and  drew  the  ladder  after  him. 
This  was  a  matter  of  difficulty,  as  there  was  barely 
room  in  the  hut  to  dispose  of  it.  Now  he  heard  the 
sound  of  footsteps,  and  the  voices  of  two  men — two 
men  only.  His  heart  gave  a  sudden  leap.  There 
was  one  chance  left.  Catford,  as  it  turned  out,  had 
positively  refused  to  believe  that  his  lieutenant  and 
Cunnington's  Yankee  courier  could  be  the  same  man. 
John  blew  out  the  light  and  crept  behind  the  door. 
The  handle  was  turned  and  the  two  men  entered, 
Catford  leading.  As  Cunnington  crossed  the  thresh- 
old, John  shut  the  door  swiftly  and  seized  Catford 
by  the  throat  and  belt.  A  struggle,  a  heavy  fall,  and 
a  cry  as  from  the  depths  of  the  earth!  Cunnington, 
startled  and  confused  in  the  darkness,  drew  back  and 
clutched  his  revolver,  but  before  he  could  draw  it  he 
was  caught  round  the  waist  and  swung  forward;  the 


296  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

ground  seemed  to  slide  from  under  his  feet  and  he 
dropped  down — down  into  space,  until  he  struck 
something  soft  and  fell  sprawling  upon  Catford  at 
the  bottom  of  the  mine.  Above  them  came  the  clang 
of  the  closing  trap-door,  and  John,  panting  with  his 
exertions,  drew  the  bolts  securely.  He  stood  there  a 
moment  listening  for  any  sound  outside.  None  came, 
and  he  groj)ed  his  way  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  No 
one  was  near.  The  officers  had  apparently  given  no 
warning  to  the  men  of  their  visit  to  the  mine.  To 
make  sure  of  his  ground,  however,  John  locked  up  the 
hut  and  strolled  in  a  leisurely  manner  to  the  guard- 
house. He  was  relieved  to  find  most  of  the  men  at 
their  evening  meal. 

"Where  is  the  lieutenant?"  he  said  to  the  ser- 
geant. 

"  Dunno,  sir. — Didn't  you  say,  Jim,"  addressing 
one  of  the  men,  "  that  he'd  walked  to  the  mine  with 
the  new  officer?  " 

"  That's  so." 

"  I  have  Just  been  there,"  John  said  quietly. 
"  Don't  matter,  I  will  go  to  the  house  and  wait  till 
he  returns." 

He  glanced  round  at  the  faces  before  him.  None 
showed  the  least  interest  or  surprise.  He  was  safe — 
for  the  time. 

Time — that  was  the  one  thing  needed.  The  boys 
ought  to  be  on  their  way  now.  How  long  would  it 
take  them  to  ride  those  sixty  miles?  Would  they 
come  at  all?  He  thought  so.  Sherman  would  risk  a 
hundred  men,  and  Bob  would  see  that  there  were 
plenty  to  volunteer. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  297 

John  went  to  Catford's  quarters,  and  sat  down  in 
tlie  same  chair  that  he  had  occupied  the  evening  be- 
fore. There  was  no  one  in  the  house  besides  himself 
but  a  negro  who  was  busy  in  the  kitchen.  The  place 
was  rank  with  stale  cigar-smoke  and  the  fumes  of 
wine  and  spirits.  A  bottle  of  brandy  and  a  dirty  glass 
stood  on  the  table.  The  man  had  been  drinking 
again  to-day.  John  took  up  one  of  Catford's  yellow- 
back novels,  and  turned  the  pages  mechanically. 
What  to  do  next?  There  were  the  guns  covering  the 
stockade,  and  the  rifles  of  the  men.  John  began  to 
try  and  devise  means  of  spiking  them,  but  could  think 
of  none.  His  brain  seemed  dull  and  heavy.  If  only 
Bob  were  here  with  his  sharp  wits!  There  seemed 
nothing  to  be  dt>ne  but  to  wait.  A  restless  desire  tor- 
mented him  to  go  to  the  hut  and  peep  at  the  trap- 
door. But  he  crushed  it.  Already  he  had  seen  sur- 
prise in  the  sergeant's  face  at  his  desire  to  visit  the 
mine  a  second  time.  It  was  possible  that  his  move- 
ments were  watched.  What  was  the  condition  of  the 
men  in  the  mine  ?  The  bottom  was  soft.  They  would 
not  be  severely  hurt.  But  they  were  firmly  held  there ; 
no  power  below  could  raise  that  trap-door ;  no  shout- 
ing underground  could  be  heard  outside  the  hut. 

A  step  on  the  floor  of  the  room  outside — soft  and 
stealthy.  John  put  the  book  aside  and  quietly  drew 
his  pistol;  then  he  sprang  up  with  an  exclamation,  for 
it  was  Bob  Spenniker. 

The  little  man  looked  w^hite  and  exhausted  and 
was  covered  with  dust  from  head  to  foot. 

"Any  one  around?"  he  whispered,  glancing  sus- 
piciously about  him. 


298  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"Not  a  soul.     AVhat  has  happened?" 

"  I'll  tell  ye  soon.     Le'me  sit." 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  coughing  and  ex- 
pectorating violently,  while  John  shut  the  door  and 
window. 

"What's  this?  Brandy?  Jerusalem  and  honey, 
that  beats  all!  "  and  pouring  himself  out  half  a  tum- 
blerful with  a  very  little  water,  he  drank  it  and 
smacked  his  lips. 

"  Well,  I  feel  better,"  taking  some  more  without 
water  and  sipping  it.     "  Where's  the  lieutenant  ?  " 

"  Safe,  just  now.     Did  you  get  to  the  army?  " 

"  I  did  so — and  the  boys  are  coming — a  hundred, 
picked  by  Sherman  himself.  Gosh,  he's  keen  on  the 
business,  you  bet!  But  they  won't  be  here  till  sun- 
down, maybe  later.     It  won't  be  no  use." 

"  They'll  do  better  than  I  thought." 

"  You  thought  ?  "  Bob  exclaimed  contemptuously. 
"  Your  idea  about  riding,  boss,  don't  amount  to  any- 
thing at  all.  I  was  in  the  general's  tent  at  dawn, 
and  by  sunup  had  started  back — the  boys  following 
as  fast  as  they  could  lick.  If  a  hundred  could  ride 
as  one,  they'd  not  be  far  away  now.  But  they  can't, 
it  stands  to  reason.  Besides — I've  killed  my  horse," 
he  added,  carelessly,  "  though  that's  neither  here  nor 
there." 

"  It  is  everything  to  me,"  John  said  with  feeling. 
"  If  there  were  a  chance  of  my  getting  through,  I 
should  owe  it  to  you." 

"  Chance!  You^re  all  right.  But  where's  the 
lieutenant,  anyhow?  " 

John  told  him  all  that  had  happened,  at  which 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  299 

Bob  swore  fearfully  and  drank  more  brandy  to  the 
"  health  of  that  blasted  mine." 

"  We  had  better  stroll  around  to  the  guard,  then," 
he  said.  "  We  must  not  have  any  of  them  fooling 
about  near  the  shanty." 

"  I  have  thought  about  it,  and  intend  sending 
one  of  the  men  to  look  for  the  officers  in  town.  Did 
any  one  see  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir !  I  did  not  know  how  things  might  be 
fixed,  so  I  came  the  back  way." 

"  Eight.  Then  take  my  horse  and  wait  some- 
where quietly  for  the  boys  outside.  Eemember,  if 
they  don't  see  me,  they  must  strike  first  for  the  mine. 
With  that  in  their  hands  they  have  everything." 

But  Bob  stood  up  with  rank  mutiny  in  his  face. 

"  See  here,  John  Burletson,  I  hev  obeyed  you 
oncet,  and  against  my  will  rode  all  last  night  and 
near  all  this  day,  and  killed  as  good  a  beast  as  any  in 
this  army.  I  don't  leave  you  again.  It  ain't  in  the 
contract.  I  came  to  stay  with  you.  Your  life  were 
in  some  danger  before,  but  there  will  be  hell  to  pay 
now  w^hen  those  boys  are  out — blue  hell-fire.  If  we 
quit  together  it'll  be  a  square  deal,  but  no  more  back- 
handed revokes.  Now,  you  won't  go — I  know  you 
won't,  because  of  what  would  fall  on  the  prisoners; 
therefore  I  remain.  I  don't  care  about  t]ie7n  a  red 
cent,  but  where  you  are  I  am  going  to  settle.  You 
go  and  talk  with  those  boys  while  I  w^ork  some  food 
out  of  the  nig  cook.  I  will  not  be  far  away  from 
you.  Leave  me  alone,  and  if  the  enemy  keep  quiet 
I'll  leave  them  alone.  If  they  start  in,  I'll  cut  the 
cards  to  rights — or  try." 


300  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

John  shook  his  head,  but  it  was  only  in  silent 
protest.  He  saw  that  Bob  was  determined,  and  he 
had  not  the  heart  to  press  the  point  further. 

He  found  the  guard  talking  in  groups,  and  evi- 
dently becoming  uncomfortable  at  the  continued  ab- 
sence of  their  officer.  The  sergeant  looked  worried 
and  cross. 

"  He  always  was  one  for  going  on  a  bust  when  the 
fit  seized  him,"  he  said  to  John.  "  But  then  it  was 
at  night,  and  after  telling  me.  It's  that  stranger  has 
took  him  off.  I  wanted  a  spare  hour  or  two  to  my- 
self this  evening.     Just  my  luck." 

"  Send  into  town  for  him,"  John  suggested. 

"What's  the  use?     He  won't  come." 

"  Say  I  want  to  see  him  at  once,  then  he  will." 

The  sergeant  brightened  a  little. 

"  That's  a  healthy  idea.  I  will  tell  a  man  to  ride 
there.     Do  you  send  a  letter  by  him." 

John  returned  to  the  house  to  write  one.  The  air 
was  cooler,  the  sun  drawing  near  the  horizon.  Two 
hours  more,  and  the  boys  might  be  here.  The  letter 
despatched,  John  strolled  round  the  stockade  with 
the  sergeant.  The  sun  sank  lower  and  disappeared; 
a  dusky  gray  line  appeared  on  the  eastern  horizon, 
spreading  minute  by  minute  from  a  mere  film  of  haze 
until  it  became  the  darkness  of  the  night.  They  stood 
together,  the  sergeant  growing  more  and  more  uneasy 
every  moment.  Suddenly  he  wheeled  round  in  a  lis- 
tening attitude. 

'.'Hear  that?" 

John's  heart  sank.  He  had  heard  it — a  dull,  curi- 
ous blow.     It  was  the  smothered  report  of  a  pistol. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  30I 

"  It  is  from  the  mine,"  the  sergeant  said.  "  They 
can't  be  there  after  all,  and  had  an  accident.  Hand 
me  the  key." 

John  felt  in  his  pockets,  one  after  another. 

"  The  thing  must  have  dropped  out.  But  you 
said  there  was  another." 

"Curse  it  all!  The  lieutenant  has  that  one,  if 
he's  in  there." 

"  He  cannot  be." 

Something  is — anyway.  Come  with  us,  Cap'n, 
we  must  worry  this  through  together." 

The  sergeant  was  becoming  suspicious.  John 
drew  himself  up. 

"  Call  your  men,  then,  and  get  something  to  force 
that  door."  He  spoke  in  a  stern  tone  of  command. 
"  If  there  is  an  accident,  it  will  be  serious  work. 
Lose  no  time." 

He  walked  away  in  the  direction  of  the  hut,  while 
the  sergeant,  after  a  quick  glance  at  him,  ran  to  the 
guard-house.  Again  a  shot  was  fired  from  the  mine, 
and  again.  All  the  men  had  heard  them,  and  came 
running  to  the  spot  fully  armed.  Then  they  heard 
another  sound,  the  report  of  a  rifle — from  the  lieu- 
tenant's house. 

"  Who  in  the  name  of  the  devil,"  said  the  ser- 
geant, stopping  short  as  he  was  about  to  dash  a  mus- 
ket-butt against  the  lock,  "  can  have  done  that  ?  " 

"Are  all  your  men  here?"  John  said.  "Some 
one  has  pulled  his  trigger  by  mistake." 

"  It  may  be  that,"  growled  the  sergeant. — "  Xow, 
boys,  down  with  this  thing." 

"  It  was  easier  said  than  done.  The  door  was  of 
20 


302  THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

oak,  well  put  together,  and  the  lock,  as  the  sergeant 
had  said,  was  of  peculiar  make.  Again  and  again 
blows  were  rained  upon  it,  until  the  musket  fell  apart 
in  the  sergeant's  hands. 

"  Get  me  an  axe,"  John  cried  as  the  men  paused, 
panting.  "  If  you  had  your  wits  about  you,  Sergeant, 
you  would  have  thought  of  that  before." 

A  man  was  off  to  the  guard-house  in  a  twinkling, 
but  several  minutes  were  gained.  Two  axes  were 
brought,  and  two  men  set  to  work  with  a  will  and 
made  the  splinters  fly.  At  last  the  door  gave  way. 
It  was  getting  dusk  now,  and  the  hut  was  darker  than 
ever.  A  match!  No  one  had  any — yes,  the  ser- 
geant found  one  at  the  bottom  of  his  pocket.  As  he 
lighted  it,  some  one  jerked  his  arm — they  were  all 
crowded  together — and  it  went  out.  Another  delay, 
during  which  the  sergeant  swore  with  bitter  emphasis, 
until  a  lantern  arrived,  and  in  the  meantime  the 
sound  of  smothered  voices  was  heard  underneath  the 
trap-door.  The  excitement  grew  every  minute.  The 
lantern  came;  the  bolts  were  drawn,  the  door  thrown 
back,  and  a  man's  head  appeared — Lieutenant  Cat- 
ford's  face,  blackened  and  bruised  beyond  recogni- 
tion. The  first  man  he  saw  as  he  clutched  the  edge 
of  the  flooring  and  crawled  out  was  his  enemy,  stand- 
ing beside  the  sergeant.  The  minute  before  a  thought 
of  escape  had  entered  John's  head,  but  had  been  dis- 
missed. They  might  fire  the  mine.  Their  rage  must 
be  expended  on  him  first.  Catford  was  weak  and 
dazed  by  the  fall  and  confinement  and  want  of  air; 
but  the  sight  of  John  roused  him  to  fury. 

"The  spy!"  he  cried,  "the  infernal  spy!" 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  303 

"What  are  you  raving  about?"  John  answered 
in  a  contemptuous  tone,  stepping  forward. 

"  You  devil !  "  shrieked  Catf ord  springing  at  him ; 
but  John  had  expected  this,  and  flung  him  to  the 
ground.  The  men  stared,  stupefied.  Then  at  a 
word  from  the  sergeant  they  seized  John  by  the  arms. 

"  I  will  not  resist,"  he  said  to  them.  "  But  be 
careful  what  you  are  about — there's  a  mistake." 

"Kill  him!  shoot  him!"  yelled  Catf  ord,  now 
beside  himself,  but  keeping  out  of  reach. 

"  No,  take  him  prisoner,"  said  another  voice — 
Lieutenant  Cunnington's.  "  Give  the  man  a  fair 
trial." 

"  Let  us  get  out  of  this  hole,  anyway,"  the  ser- 
geant protested.  "  If  there's  any  firing  here,  the 
powder'll  be  alight." 

At  this  remark  there  was  a  general  retreat  and 
John  was  hustled  into  the  open.  Then  Catford, 
drawing  his  sword,  thrust  Cunnington  aside. 

"  I  am  in  command  here.  Stand  back.  Boys, 
that  devil  is  a  Yankee  spy.  Shoot  him  like  a  dog! 
Ten  of  you  fall  in." 

"  You  are  a  liar,"  John  retorted.  "  I  am  no  spy. 
— Lieutenant  Cunnington,  I  spared  your  life  once. 
Give  me  time  to  make  an  explanation." 

Again  Cunnington  would  have  interfered,  but 
Catford  waved  him  back. 

"  Load!  "  he  cried  to  the  men.  The  ramrods  rang 
sharply.     "  Present! " 

"  Crack! " — a  single  report  and  flash,  which 
seemed  to  come  from  one  of  the  men,  and  with  a  gasp 
and  groan  the  lieutenant  himself  fell  grovelling  on  his 


304  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN   STEEL. 

face.  A  few  of  the  men  fired  at  John  then,  bnt  they 
aimed  wildly  and  the  shots  flew  high. 

"  Steady,  you  fools  !  "  the  sergeant  said.  "  There's 
double  treason  somewhere.  That  shot  was  from  be- 
hind. Close  around  this  man  and  take  him  to  the 
guard-house.  If  one  more  shot  is  fired,  let  go  at  his 
heart!    Good  God!  what's  that?" 

There  was  a  new  sound  in  the  air,  the  thunderous 
beat  of  horses'  hoofs.  The  men  stood  still,  dumb, 
confounded. 

"  Face  about,  men,  face  about!  "  said  Cunnington 
at  the  top  of  his  voice.    "  Fire  at  the  cavalry — tire!  " 

But  his  words  came  too  late.  A  score  of  horses 
were  trampling  round  them,  a  score  of  sabres  flashed 
above  their  heads. 

"  Surrender! "  cried  a  voice,  stern  and  uncom- 
promising. Then,  as  the  Confederates  sullenly  laid 
down  their  arms:  "Where  is  your  prisoner?  If  any 
harm  has  come  to  him,  not  a  man  of  you  shall  live! — 
John  Burletson,  are  you  here?  " 

"  You  bet  your  bottom  dollar.  Major,"  cried  a 
voice  in  answer — Bob  Speniiiker's — "  didn't  I  tell  ye 
I'd  see  him  through?  You  never  knew  me  break 
contract  yet." 


CHAPTEE   XXVIII. 

It  was  holiday  time  in  Chippewa.  The  whole  of 
the  Selhy  family,  with  the  exception  of  Luke,  were 
staying  at  the  farm  with  Mrs.  Biirletson,  an  arrange- 
ment which  suited  every  one  concerned  except  John's 
manager,  Jim  Hallet,  who  was  nearly  driven  wild  by 
the  mischievous  doings  of  the  Selby  hoys.  These 
boys,  Sam  and  a  younger  brother,  were  animated 
with  the  best  possible  intentions,  but  they  had  active 
minds  and  more  active  bodies;  and  they  had  both 
seriously  resolved  to  become  farmers.  So,  when  they 
found  that  the  men  about  the  farm  were  too  busy  to 
answer  their  innumerable  questions,  they  set  out  on  a 
voyage  of  discovery  upon  their  own  account.  Their 
system  of  self-education  was  a  course  of  practical  ex- 
periments upon  all  agricultural  produce,  living  and 
dead,  from  the  cattle  in  the  meadows  and  the  chick- 
ens in  the  yard  to  a  mower,  a  straw-cutter,  and  a  wire 
rat-trap  with  a  rat  inside.  That  they  were  chased 
by  an  indignant  bull  and  nearly  tossed;  kicked  heels 
over  head  by  a  vicious  horse;  bitten  very  badly  by 
the  rat,  which  they  intended,  Sam  said,  to  "  train  for 
a  circus  "  ;  nearly  killed  by  the  straw-cutter;  and 
severely  cut  about  the  fingers  by  the  mower,  did  not 
cool  their  ardour  in  the  least.     They  ought  in  the 

305 


306  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

end — according  to  the  Sunday-school  books — to  have 
met  with  violent  and  painful  deaths,  for  they  had  no 
mercy  on  anything  that  moved;  but  nothing  worse 
than  cuts  and  bruises  happened  to  them,  and  when 
hay-making  began  even  Jim  Hallet  was  mollified  by 
the  way  the  urchins  worked,  and  he  was  discovered 
by  Jean,  one  afternoon,  teaching  Sam  to  ride. 

The  summer  this  year  was  fine  and  dry,  and  in 
those  warm  June  days  Mrs.  Burletson  and  Jean  sat 
out  all  day  long  among  the  grass  and  flowers  and 
hum  of  bees  and  chirp  of  grasshoppers.  They  were 
always  busy,  sewing  hard  for  the  children  at  home 
and  the  boys  at  the  war — for  each  had  her  share  of 
work  to  do  for  the  Sanitary.  Sometimes  Mrs.  Hani- 
man  would  join  them  in  an  afternoon — only  that  she 
never  sewed.  "  I  find  it  restful  here,"  she  said  once, 
sighing,  "  though  I  always  wonder  why,  for  a  busier 
Avoman  never  lived  than  you,  Sarah;  and  you  have 
a  heavy  care."  This  was  when  they  heard  that  John 
was  dangerously  wounded. 

Mrs.  Burletson  looked  at  Jean. 

"  I  have  some  one  to  share  it  with  me,  Martha. 
That  is  why  I  get  no  chance  to  be  lonely." 

Yet  they  did  not  talk  much  in  those  days.  At 
times  Mrs.  Burletson  would  tell  anecdotes  of  John's 
childhood,  which  her  companions  were  never  tired  of 
hearing,  but  Jean  said  little.  It  was  a  restful  day  for 
Jean,  in  spite  of  the  anxiety  and  suspense.  The  bond 
between  her  and  Mrs.  Burletson  grew  daily,  and  the 
day  the  news  came  that  John  was  avgII  again  and  had 
set  out  for  the  prison  they  sat  together  for  a  long  time 
holding  one  another's  hands,  and  when  they  parted 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  307 

for  the  night,  Mrs.  Burletson  held  Jean  close  and 
kissed  her  again  and  again. 

"  My  dearest  girl,  what  should  I  do  without  you 
now?  God  was  very  good  to  give  me  such  a  daughter 
when  he  took  my  John." 

"  For  a  time,  mother,"  Jean  whispered — "  only 
for  a  time.  John  will  come  back  again  to  you,  I 
know  he  will.     He  must." 

Mrs.  Burletson  shook  her  head. 

"  He  ma}' — I  believe  that  he  will,  but  it  cannot  be 
to  stay.  Years  ago,  Jean,  the  day  the  war  began,  I 
said  that  if  ever  John  went  South  it  would  be  to 
make  his  mark.  He  has  done  so.  The  letter  from 
the  President — God  bless  him! — and  the  note  that 
doctor  sent  me  the  other  day,  show  it.  Of  course, 
John  says  nothing.  But  I  must  not  forget  that  as  a 
great  soldier  my  boy  belongs  to  the  country  and  not  to 
me.  If  when  he  comes  home  you  ever  hear  me  say  one 
word  likely  to  make  him  feel  that  he  should  stay  here, 
tell  me  right  there.  I  will  not  have  that  happen.  His 
love  for  me  cost  him  three  years  of  bitter  longing;  it 
shall  never  stand  in  his  way  again." 

Jean  spent  a  very  restless  night  after  this  talk. 
She  was  anxious  about  Mrs.  Burletson.  The  old  lady 
was  wonderfully  cheerful,  but  Jean  saw  plainly  how 
she  languished  for  her  boy.  She  would  pore  over 
his  letters  by  the  hour  together,  and  as  time  went  on 
she  grew  more  silent,  her  movements  became  less 
brisk,  and  Jean  even  fancied  she  was  losing  flesh,  and 
was  certain  that  her  appetite  was  not  what  it  ought  to 
be.  Dr.  Selliger,  however,  whom  Jean  called  in  pri- 
vately one  day,  laughed  at  these  fears  and  said  he  had 


308  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

never  seen  Mrs,  Burletson  looking  so  well.  But  it  so 
happened  that  the  committee,  of  which  John  had 
been  the  founder,  and  the  doctor  the  chairman,  was 
enlarging  the  scope  of  its  work  in  a  manner  Mrs.  Bur- 
letson did  not  approve,  and  when  the  doctor  called, 
she  gave  him  a  piece  of  her  mind. 

"  John  ought  to  be  at  home,"  Jean  said  to  herself 
that  night.  "  I  shall  write  and  tell  him  so.  Let 
other  men  risk  their  lives;  his  is  too  valuable.  The 
worst  of  it  is,  he  never  thinks  of  himself,  and  if  he 
feels  it  is  his  duty  he  will  go  through  with  it  all.  But 
I  am  sure  when  he  sees  the  change  in  his  mother  since 
he  went  away  he  will  feel  that  he  should  stay  at  home. 
Yes,  I  will  write,"  and  with  this  resolution  in  her 
mind  Jean  went  peacefully  to  sleep. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Burletson  was  not  so  well  as 
usual,  and  sent  Jean  into  the  garden  alone.  Jean 
found  it  dreary  work  sewing  by  herself,  and  was  about 
to  see  what  had  become  of  the  boys,  when  she  saw  a 
sturdy  figure  tearing  up  the  road  from  town,  and 
recognised  Sam.  Fearing  that  some  serious  acci- 
dent had  happened,  Jean  ran  down  the  garden  path 
to  meet  him.  As  he  drew  nearer  she  heard  him  cheer- 
ing and  whooping  in  a  wild  state  of  jubilation,  and 
was  reassured.  By  the  time  he  reached  her  his 
breath  had  all  gone,  and,  thrusting  a  telegram  into 
her  hand,  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground,  exclaiming 
in  a  series  of  gasps: 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  tired — they're  going  to  have  a  bon- 
fire— isn't  John  a  trump?  Aren't  you  glad  he's  com- 
ing back? — I  am.     Hurrah!  " 

It  was  the  best  of  news: 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  309 

"  Seth  safe;  we  come  home  at  once. — John." 

It  was  Jean's  turn  to  speed  the  good  tidings,  and, 
having  hugged  Sam,  to  his  great  surprise,  she  ran  to 
the  house.  Mrs.  Burletson  met  her  at  the  door;  she 
had  heard  the  joyful  shouts,  and  Jean  thought  she 
looked  ten  years  younger  when  she  read  the  precious 
news. 

Some  days  passed,  and  then  the  mail  from  the  boys 
arrived:  a  letter  from  John  to  his  mother,  one  from 
Seth  to  Jean.  Mrs.  Burletson  finished  hers  first,  for 
John,  though  he  did  his  best,  had  never  written  a 
long  letter  in  his  life,  while  Seth„  to  Jean  at  least,  had 
never  written  a  short  one.  The  old  lady  looked  curi- 
ously at  Jean,  and  for  the  first  time  since  John  went 
away  felt  a  sudden  sense  of  disappointment.  The 
girl's  face  was  flushed;  her  eyes  shining  with  a  happy 
light. 

"  Is  she  really  content,  after  all?  "  Mrs.  Burletson 
thought.  Then  she  reproached  herself.  "  My  ideas 
are  foolishness.     Yet  I  did  begin  to  think " 

But  now  Jean  looked  up,  and  Mrs.  Burletson's  re- 
flections stopped. 

"  The  best  letter  the  dear  boy  ever  wrote.  I  shall 
read  it  to  you,  mother.  It  is  all  about  John.  Seth 
tells  Just  what  we  want  to  know,  of  which  John  will 
never  tell." 

She  began  to  read,  and  Mrs.  Burletson  gave  a  little 
sigh  of  relief. 

"  I  was  too  quick  in  judging,  as  I  always  am,"  she 
thought. 

"  As  to  how  the  thing  was  done,  you  Just  get  par- 


310  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT   IN  STEEL. 

ticulars  from  John,"  Jean  read.  "  I  cannot  tell  you 
anything  first-hand,  as  I  was'  shut  up,  limp  and  miser- 
able. But  I  know  what  happened  afterward.  We 
had  been  waiting  all  day  when,  just  as  dusk  came  in, 
we  heard  a  scrimmage.  We  kept  quiet  as  mice  and 
were  about  as  scared,  for  beneath  us  they  had  laid  a 
mine  of  gunpowder  which  they  swore  they'd  fire  were 
any  attempt  made  at  a  rescue.  But  we  listened  and 
held  our  breath,  for  it  would  be  death  or  freedom 
now.  First  came  a  single  shot,  then  a  quick  volley, 
then  a  cheer.  '  It's  the  boys! '  some  cried.  '  It's  the 
rebs! '  growled  others,  'keep  quiet.'  But  a  few  min- 
utes afterward  we  heard  a  hammering  at  the  gates, 
and  then  we  knew  that  we  were  saved.  How  we  yelled 
and  cried  and  swore  in  our  delight  and  Joy  while  they 
got  the  keys  and  unlocked  everything,  and  then  when 
the  doors  were  opened  what  a  rush  was  made  for 
them!  I  was  too  weak  to  stir,  but  some  of  the  boys 
picked  me  up  and  the  rest  made  way,  knowing  I  was 
John's  friend.  I  can  see  it  all  now.  The  moon  had 
come  out,  shining  upon  our  boys  as  they  sat  on  horse- 
back, scores  of  them,  laughing  and  chaffing  the  pris- 
oners who  were  now  mad  or  drunk  with  joy,  while  in 
the  centre  stood  John — the  man  who  had  worked  it  all 
— white  as  a  sheet,  but  cool  and  upright,  not  one  bit 
carried  away;  not  conscious,  I  believe,  that  the  cheers 
were  mostly  meant  for  him.  When  he  saw  me,  he  ran 
up,  and  all  he  said  was:  '  They  have  saved  us,  Seth. 
We  have  to  thank  Major  Templeton  and  my  man  Bob 
for  this.'  Afterward,  we  were  attacked  on  the  way 
to  Sherman  by  reb  militia,  two  hundred  and  fifty 
strong.     It  was  a  surprise.     The  boys  were  beaten 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  311 

back,  the  major  killed,  and  things  looked  queer.  But 
they  had  given  John  command  of  a  reserve  of  fifty 
men,  and  with  these  he  charged.  I  saw  it  all,  for 
we  were  on  a  hill  at  the  time.  If  ever  I  had  been  in 
doubt  that  John  was  a  fighting  man,  I  must  have 
taken  back  my  words  then.  Steady  as  a  rocket  and 
straight  as  a  line  he  led  his  men  upon  their  centre. 
They  met  him  fairly,  but  naught  could  stop  his  boys. 
What  was  the  secret?  Why,  they  ^vere  led.  When 
we  got  safe  to  the  army  at  last,  the  first  man  to 
shake  hands  with  John  was  General  Sherman  himself. 
He  did  so  before  all  his  staff,  and  you  should  have 
heard  the  cheering.  John  will  be  promoted,  of 
course.  Yet  he  declares  he  will  come  home  with  me. 
I'll  believe  it  when  I  see  it.  He's  the  hero  of  the 
army  now.  That  1  or  any  of  those  three  hundred 
prisoners  are  alive  to-day  is  owing  to  John,  and  every 
man  here  knows  it,  and  before  long  all  the  folk  at 
home,  from  Lincoln  downward,  will  know  it  too." 

"  That  is  a  real  beautiful  letter,  my  dear,"  Mrs. 
Burletson  said,  wiping  her  eyes.  "  It  is  pleasing  of 
this  young  man  to  write  so  of  my  boy — yet  he  should, 
should  he  not?  " 

"  Yes,"  Jean  said,  looking  with  hungry  eyes  at 
the  sheets  in  Mrs.  Burletson's  hands.  But  she  did 
not  see  their  contents  this  time,  and  felt  pained  and 
hurt.  She  was  beset  by  a  vague  yearning  and  unrest, 
which  troubled  and  perplexed  her,  and  after  this  she 
did  not  talk  of  John  so  freely  to  his  mother  as  before. 

John  kept  his  word.  The  pressure  put  upon  him 
to  remain  in  the  army  was  very  great;  but  in  his 
breast  pocket  he  carried  something  which  caused  him 


312  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

to  withstand  it  all — the  letter  from  Jean.  She  had 
written,  as  she  had  resolved  to  do,  putting  down  in 
plain  words  her  anxiety  about  his  mother.  After  he 
read  this,  all  the  glory  and  offers  of  promotion  in 
the  world  availed  nothing  with  John.  His  return 
home,  however,  was  delayed  longer  than  he  expected. 
General  Sherman,  amid  the  rush  and  turmoil  of  the 
taking  of  Atlanta,  found  time  to  send  a  few  lines  to 
the  President  about  Santanelle,  inclosing  Lincoln's 
own  letter,  and  recommending  that,  though  John  re- 
fused to  serve,  he  should  be  given  a  captain's  com- 
mission. Lincoln  telegraphed  an  affirmative  reply, 
and  wrote  to  John,  telling  him  to  come  and  see  him. 
This  correspondence  caused  the  destruction  of  John's 
peace  for  many  a  day.  The  papers  picked  it  up,  and 
the  news  of  the  exploit  spread  through  the  North. 
Before  John  had  been  in  Washington  an  hour  he 
was  stormed  by  interviewers.  Before  he  had  been  there 
ten  hours  all  the  public  men  from  whom  he  had 
humbly  sought  the  boon  of  an  introduction  to  the 
President  called  upon  him  with  compliments  and  in- 
vitations to  their  houses.  Then,  through  a  base  plot 
organised  by  Seth,  he  was  photographed,  and  the 
next  day  his  likeness  was  in  the  shop  windows  and 
people  cheered  him  in  the  streets. 

John  bore  it  well  enough,  on  the  whole.  He  was 
ably  supported  by  Seth,  who  seduced  him  into  the 
purchase  of  an  officer's  uniform,  and  was  iijvaluable 
to  the  press  men  by  the  number  of  circumstantial  de- 
tails of  John's  life  and  late  adventures  with  which  he 
supplied  them.  But  in  one  thing  John  was  unyield- 
ing.    He  had  promised  his  mother  that  he  would  not 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  313 

stay  in  Washington  more  than  two  days,  and  no  in- 
vitations from  great  people,  no  flattery — notliing — 
could  induce  him  to  break  that  promise.  On  the 
second  day,  therefore,  before  they  went  to  keep  their 
appointment  with  President  Lincoln,  tickets  were 
taken  for  the  midnight  train. 

Lincoln  received  John  with  the  smile  of  an  old 
friend. 

"  You  are  welcome,  truly  welcome,  Burletson," 
he  said,  with  a  long  hand-shake.  "  Is  this  the  man 
you  went  to  visit  in  the  South  ?  I  am  pleased  to  meet 
him.  A  Northerner  who  has  tasted  Southern  hospi- 
tality— and  lived — is  worth  seeing." 

He  made  them  both  sit  down,  and  asked  them 
many  questions,  keeping  them  with  him  an  hour. 
When  they  rose  at  last  to  take  their  leave,  he  grasped 
John's  shoulder  and  turned  his  face  to  the  light. 

"  You  are  older  by  years,  friend,  since  we  met. 
Is  that  your  wound,  or  fever?  "  he  slipped  his  hand 
down  and  felt  the  muscles  of  John's  arm.  "  No,  it  is 
not  fever;  you  are  hard  as  hickory  wood.  It  is 
trouble  of  the  mind — yet  you  sold  your  hogs  and  now 
carry  back  your  fifty  dollars  with  interest."  He 
smiled  with  a  quaint  shake  of  the  head.  "  I  do  not 
like  you,  John.  You  have  cold-shouldered  Uncle 
Billy,  who  is  your  best  friend,  and  have  left  the  army 
ladder  for  some  one  else  to  climb.  The  country 
wants  you.  I,  its  representative,  tell  you  so  to  your 
face.  You  are  a  fraud,  as  I  told  you  once  before. 
What  does  it  mean?  What  have  you  to  answer? 
— say." 

"  My  folk,  sir — my  mother — wants  me  most  of  all. 


314  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

You,  Mr.  President,  have  a  thousand  men  as  good 
and  better.     My  mother  has  only  me." 

"  Yet  you  left  her,"  Lincoln  said  sharply.  "  You 
set  no  price  at  all  upon  your  life — to  see  those  hogs." 

John  dropped  his  eye. 

"  There  was — no  one  else  to  go,"  he  muttered. 

"H'm!"  said  the  President,  glancing  at  Seth. 
"  No  doubt  that  was  so — but,  well,  I  wish  I  knew 
any  man  who  would  do  as  much  for  me." 

lie  looked  slowly  from  one  face  to  the  other,  and 
still  holding  John  with  his  right  hand,  placed  his  left 
upon  Seth's  shoulder. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  boys  first  met?  " 

"  A  year  before  the  war,"  Seth  answered. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  what  you  told  me,  Burletson — 
all  that  you  told  me.  Mr.  Cotton — that  I  believe  is 
your  name — tell  me  what  you  think.    Will  you?  " 

Seth  started  at  the  sudden  question,  and  then 
looked  confused. 

"  I  don't — I  really  do  not  know — what  to  think 
of  it  all,"  he  said  lamely. 

He  found  it  very  difficult  to  speak,  under  the 
gaze  of  those  searching  eyes. 

"  You  do  not.  Then  let  me  tell  you  a  little  story. 
Two  boys  once  saw  an  apple  growing,  away  up  on  a 
tree.  It  was  the  finest  apple  they  had  ever  seen. 
Both  wanted  it;  but  one  had  chores  to  do,  and  reck- 
oned to  see  them  through  first.  The  other  had  no 
chores,  and  climbed  and  picked  the  apple.  Coming 
down,  he  lost  his  hold  and  hung  by  a  branch  over  a 
spiked  fence.  He  cried  for  help,  and  the  first  boy 
left  his  chores,  went  up  that  dangerous  tree  like  a 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  315 

young  buck  'possum,  stepped  right  among  the 
branches  over  the  spiked  fence,  and  pulled  the  climber 
out  of  danger  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life.  Mean- 
time the  apple  had  dropped  upon  the  grass.  The 
boy  who  picked  it  took  it  up  and  ate  it,  but  it  was 
said  by  some  that  the  apple  did  not  belong  to  him. 
Now,  friends,  my  time  is  up,  and  you  must  go. 
Goo-bye,  John  Burletson."  He  shook  hands  with 
them  both,  and  as  John  tried  to  thank  him  he  made  a 
gesture  of  impatience. 

"  That  is  just  nonsense.  I  am  placed  here  to  do 
what  one  man  may  for  the  nation.  That  often  means 
hard  things  to  the  individual.  In  your  case  I  did  my 
best  to  kill  you.  I  knew  the  risk  you  ran,  and  God, 
when  he  brought  you  safely  through,  my  friend, 
treated  me  better  than  I  deserved." 


CHAPTEE   XXIX. 

The  journey  from  Washington  to  Chippewa  is 
tiresome  enough  even  at  the  present  day,  and  in  1864 
was  still  less  comfortable.  But  to  Seth,  after  all  his 
hardships  and  bitter  sufferings,  it  was  a  pure  luxury, 
lie  had  picked  up  in  strength  very  quickly,  and  was 
now  quite  able  to  enjoy  life  as  long  as  he  did  not  exert 
himself.  The  lazy  existence  in  the  railway  train 
suited  him  exactly.  In  Washington  the  excitement 
and  bustle  had  been  very  trying,  and  though  he  en- 
joyed it  in  a  way,  yet,  when  John,  in  a  final  burst 
of  impatience,  had  said  that  the  fuss  "  made  him  more 
tired  than  if  he  had  been  in  the  saddle  twenty-four 
hours,"  Seth,  though  he  laughed,  felt  disposed  to 
agree  with  him. 

Seth  held  no  illusions  concerning  himself.  He 
was  inclined  rather  to  underrate  his  own  powers,  and 
was  John's  most  outspoken  admirer.  But  the  ever- 
lasting hymn  of  praise  poured  forth  in  honour  of  his 
old  rival  became  a  trifle  wearisome  after  a  time,  and 
aroused  a  desire  for  some,  if  ever  so  little,  public 
recognition  of  his  own  services  and  sufferings.  The 
interview  with  Lincoln  was  a  climax.  The  meaning 
of  "  the  little  story  "  was  obvious  enough,  and  Seth 
spent  a  very  uncomfortable  half  hour  thinking  it 
31G 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  317 

over.  Then  he  threw  the  thought  aside — the  anal- 
ogy was  false.  Jean  belonged  to  him  because  she 
loved  him.  He  could  not,  if  he  wished,  give  her  to 
John.  Until  she  repented  of  her  choice  and  told 
him  so,  the  President  might  go  hang!  As  they 
journeyed  northward,  the  longing  for  Jean  became 
overpowering,  and  his  heart  swelled  with  the  pride 
of  possession.  Let  John  receive  all  the  praise  and 
glory  that  was  his  due,  and  even  the  overpraise  that 
sentimental  people  poured  upon  his  head.  He,  Seth, 
had  something  better  than  all  this  waiting  him  at 
his  journey's  end — something  that  John  would  have 
given  his  fame  ten  times  over  to  possess.  "  In  story- 
books, goody-story  books,"  Seth  comfortably  reflected 
as  he  smoked  a  fragrant  Havana  which  John  had 
given  him,  "  old  John  would  return  to  find  the  lady 
of  his  love  so  dazzled  by  the  greatness  of  his  achieve- 
ments that  I,  in  common  decency,  would  have  to 
bundle  myself  away  at  the  shortest  possible  notice 
back  to  the  war  and  get  killed  out  of  hand.  In  real 
life  these  come  out  differently.  Nevertheless,  con- 
found the  President!  His  little  story  will  leave  a 
nasty  taste  in  my  mouth  to  my  dying  day.  Poor  old 
John!" 

The  night  that  John  and  Seth  returned  to  Chippe- 
wa will  not  soon  be  forgotten  by  the  good  folk  there. 
Since  the  day  the  local  paper  had  doubled  its  cir- 
culation by  reprinting  paragraphs  from  the  great 
organs  of  the  East  about  the  "  Wisconsin  patriot," 
every  soul  in  the  place,  from  the  minister  to  the 
youngest  of  Seth's  old  pupils,  determined  that  a  re- 
ception worthy  of  the  occasion  should  be  accorded  to 
21 


318  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

John.  There  was  to  be  a  band,  a  torchlight  pro- 
cession, and  a  grand  supper  at  tlie  store.  The  rail- 
way depot  was  hung  with  flags,  and  Chinese  lanterns, 
which  were  to  be  lighted  with  the  torches  when  the 
train  was  signalled.  Every  one  was  there,  and  cheered 
heartily  when  Mrs.  Burletson,  in  the  very  best  of  all 
her  dresses,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Luke  Selby,  chair- 
man of  the  festivities,  walked  to  the  place  of  honour 
in  the  centre  of  the  platform.  With  her  was  Jean, 
still  in  mourning  for  her  mother,  but  with  fresh  flow- 
ers in  her  hat  and  dress.  Many  a  nod  and  smile  passed 
from  neighbour  to  neighbour.  "  What  a  daisy  she 
is!  "  the  sheriff  whispered  to  his  friend  the  saloon- 
keeper, "and  what  a  pity  she  waits  for  Seth!  She 
took  the  wrong  one,  Job,  my  boy,  that  I  will  always 
say,  when  she  had  him  and  mittened  John." 

The  whistle  of  the  approaching  train  now  sound- 
ed, and  every  one  drew  breath  for  a  cheer.  Mrs. 
Burletson  stood  up  and  took  Jean's  hand.  The  en- 
gine light  travelled  along  the  platform,  but  the  rat- 
tle of  the  cars  and  the  scrunch  of  the  brakes  were 
quickly  drowned  by  the  yell  of  men  and  boys  as  they 
recognised  John  in  his  captain's  uniform,  standing 
on  the  platform  of  the  car,  waving  his  hat  to  his 
mother.  Seth  was  beside  him  and  forgot  to  feel  this 
time  that  he  was  left  in  the  cold,  for  there  was  Jean's 
face,  eager  and  beautiful — the  face  that  belonged  to 
him.  There  was  little  time,  though,  for  private 
greetings.  A  hurried  word  and  hand  pressure,  and 
then  they  passed  from  the  cars  between  the  lines  of 
cheering  townsfolk  and  the  music  of  the  band. 

John  came  first,  his  mother  on  his  arm,  the  proud- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN   STEEL.  319 

est  mother  in  the  North  that  day,  Seth  following 
with  Jean,  who  was  a  trifle  pale,  somebody  remarked, 
and  was  looking  tired.  At  the  entrance  to  the  depot 
a  carriage  was  waiting,  into  which  Luke  handed  Mrs. 
Burletson  and  Jean,  John  and  Seth  following.  Then 
six  young  men  drew  out  the  horses,  amid  ecstatic 
shouts  from  the  crowd,  and  placed  themselves  in  the 
shafts;  the  torch-bearers  ranged  alongside;  the  band 
took  up  position  in  front  and  struck  up  a  favourite 
air  with  might  and  main,  and  away  they  went  in  full 
procession  down  the  main  streets  of  the  town.  As 
they  approached  the  store  the  band  played  "  Tramp, 
tramp,  tramp! "  and  here  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
people  broke  all  bounds;  and  when  John,  having 
mounted  the  platform,  turned  to  face  his  friends  and 
make  the  speech  he  felt  was  inevitable,  a  thousand 
throats  roared  out  the  refrain  of  the  last  verse  of 
the  Union  prisoners'  song: 

"  On,  on,  on  the  boys  come  marching, 

Like  a  grand  majestic  sea, 
And  they  dashed  away  the  guards 
From  the  heavy  iron  doors, 

And  we  stood  once  more  beneath  our  banner — free  !  " 

After  this  they  cheered  again  until  no  one  had  any 
breath  or  voice  left.    Then  John  spoke: 

"  I  thank  you,  friends,  for  your  splendid  wel- 
come. Seth  has  asked  me  to  do  the  speaking  for  us 
both,  and,  though  he  would  do  it  twice  as  well  as  I,  I 
am  glad  to  address  you.  First,  I  want  to  say  this: 
The  papers  have  printed  a  great  deal  of  stuff  about 
me.     Don't  you  believe  a  word  of  it.     I  am  almost 


320  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

ashamed  to  show  my  face,  after  what  I've  read.  There 
is  only  one  hero  in  this  thing,  and  they  scarce  men- 
tioned him.  But  I  will  name  him  to  you — this  man 
who  stands  by  me." 

As  he  turned  to  Seth,  and  the  crowd  hoarsely 
cheered,  his  eyes  met  Jean's.  ''  Ay,  boys,"  he  cried, 
becoming  eloquent  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
"  cheer  him  all  you  know.  He  deserves  it  and  more. 
He  fought  three  long  years  for  his  country;  he  was 
badly  wounded  once,  and  has  endured  hardships  right 
along.  Then  for  six  months  he  lay  in  Santanelle 
prison.  What  he  suffered  you  will  never  know,  and 
I,  though  I  saw  something,  do  not  realize  it  all.  It 
was  a  martyrdom  of  pain  and  misery.  But  God  has 
been  merciful  to  him  and  his,  and  he  has  returned  in 
safety.  On  his  behalf  as  well  as  on  my  own,  I  thank 
you  for  your  greeting." 

When  the  speeches  were  done,  then  came  the  sup- 
per in  the  store.  It  was  long  after  midnight  when 
John  and  Seth  reached  their  beds.  The  next  morn- 
ing John  rose  betimes  and  drove  his  mother  home. 
He  was  dressed  in  his  workaday  blue  jean  trousers 
and  rough  brown  coat;  and  though  his  friends  tried 
to  call  him  "  Captain,"  the  effort  soon  became  too 
great;  they  dropped  into  old  habits  of  speech,  and 
came  back  to  plain  John  Burletson  at  last. 

Seth  left  his  room  later — he  had  been  much  ex- 
hausted by  the  excitement  the  night  before.  John 
had  departed,  Luke  was  in  the  store,  and  Jean  was  in 
the  kitchen  with  her  sleeves  turned  up,  busy  with 
household  work. 

"  This  is  a  change,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  noticed 


THE  GOSPEL  WEIT  IN  STEEL.  321 

the  plainness  of  her  dress,  and  a  tinge  of  redness  in 
the  hands  and  wrists  that  used  to  be  so  white;  not  to 
mention  a  big  coarse  apron,  which  in  old  days  Jean 
had  said  was  a  thing  she  would  never  wear. 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  said,  with  half  a  sniile  and  half  a 
sigh,  for  Seth's  presence  brought  back  sad  memories. 
"  A  more  useless  creature  than  I  when  you  went  away 
did  not  exist,  I  suppose.  But  mother's  illness 
changed  all  that.  I  had  to  work.  Now  sit  down  at 
that  table  while  I  get  your  breakfast  ready.  Poor 
dear,  you  look  very  tired  still.  You  must  take  things 
easy  to-day  and  for  many  days." 

Seth  did  as  he  was  told,  and  as  he  watched  Jean's 
quick,  deft  movements  she  reminded  him  of  her  moth- 
er, and  he  was  not  sure  that  he  quite  liked  it.  But 
the  changes  in  her  face  that  these  three  years  had 
wrought  were  to  the  good;  he  felt  that  strongly.  It 
was  a  rounder,  sweeter  face,  the  mouth  more  tender 
in  expression,  the  eyes  softer  and  less  aggressive 
than  they  used  to  be;  yet  the  whole  firmer  in  out- 
line and  as  beautiful  as  ever. 

Seth  took  things  easily  for  a  month.  Thanks  to 
his  constitution,  a  habit  of  temperate  living  and 
youth,  the  prolonged  hardships  even  of  Santanelle, 
left  no  permanent  weakness  behind,  and  after  a  four 
weeks'  holiday  he  felt  as  well  able  to  do  a  man's  work 
in  the  world  as  ever.  The  first  point  was  to  find  the 
work;  the  second  one,  to  earn  enough  to  marry. 
Both  these  things,  before  Seth  had  been  a  week  in 
Chippewa,  began  to  cause  him  no  little  anxiety,  which 
in  its  turn  did  not  tend  to  improve  his  temper,  which 
that    three    years'    campaigning    had    considerably 


322  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

roughened.  The  quiet  life  at  the  store  soon  became 
intensely  irksome  to  him;  the  children  were  an  un- 
mitigated nuisance;  Luke  Selby  bored  him,  and  he 
could  never  see  as  much  of  Jean  as  he  considered  he 
had  a  right  to  do.  Marriage  was  the  only  remedy 
for  this.  The  way  to  that  was  by  securing  a  reap- 
pointment as  master  of  the  school,  and  by  good  luck 
and  influence  inducing  the  managers  of  the  school  to 
give  him  a  sufficiently  substantial  salary.  Circum- 
stances were  in  his  favour;  the  present  schoolmaster 
was  not  a  capable  man  and  was  under  notice  of  dis- 
missal, and  the  chairman  of  the  board  was  Luke  him- 
self. No  sooner,  however,  were  Seth's  practical  diffi- 
culties in  the  fair  way  of  clearing  themselves  than  a 
vague  uneasiness  began  to  haunt  him,  which  one  day, 
four  weeks  after  he  came  home,  broke  out  into  a  defi- 
nite and  distinct  trouble  of  mind.  It  struck  him  that 
Jean,  apart  from  the  sense  of  responsibility  toward 
her  home  duties,  was  not  so  eager  as  himself  for  the  ar- 
rival of  their  marriage  day.  At  first  Seth  scouted  the 
idea  as  absurd.  All  this  month  she  had  spent  every 
spare  moment  away  from  her  work  and  her  household 
exclusively  with  him.  She  had  not  even  been  to  see 
Mrs.  Burletson;  and  in  their  walks  and  drives  had 
cheerfully  discussed  his  plans  and  approved  of  his  ap- 
plication for  the  schoolmastership,  and  at  his  request 
had  spoken  to  her  father  about  the  matter.  Yet  he 
was  not  content.  It  might  be  fancy,  but  at  times  he 
thought  she  showed  a  tendency  to  be  absent-minded 
when  they  were  alone,  a  habit  which  was  growing 
upon  her.  When,  in  the  light  of  this  thought,  he 
looked  back  upon  their  talks  together,  he  remem- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  323 

bered  that  every  plan  for  the  future  had  been  sug- 
gested by  himself.  Jean  had  passively  agreed  to 
them  all,  and  had  initiated  nothing.  With  some 
women  this  would  be  natural  enough,  but  it  was  not 
like  Jean.  In  old  days  she  had  always  been  full  of 
ideas — too  full,  he  had  sometimes  thought.  N'ow 
she  had  none.  Then,  when  he  had  spoken  hopefully 
of  his  chances  for  the  school  through  her  father's 
position,  she  had  been  very  unresponsive,  and  had 
obviously  disliked  speaking  to  him.  At  the  time 
Seth  had  put  this  down  to  a  certain  estrangement 
which  he  noticed  had  grown  up  between  father  and 
daughter;  but,  taken  with  the  rest,  it  might  mean 
something  ver)^  different. 

At  length  Seth  could  keep  his  thoughts  to  him- 
self no  longer,  and  one  day,  when  they  were  out  driv- 
ing, the  impulse  to  prove  this  matter  to  the  root  fas- 
tened upon  him. 

"  Jean,  I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  he  said. 
"Do  you  know  that  we  have  been  engaged  three 
years?  " 

"  It  is  a  long  time." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  " 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  that  question  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you."  He  looked  away  as  he  spoke. 
"  Since  I  have  been  home  I  have  moved  heaven  and 
earth  to  get  an  appointment  and  see  some  clear  road 
to  our  marriage.  I  want  to  be  married,  and  I  have 
a  right  to,  after  all  this  time.  I  want  to  be  first  in 
your  thoughts  and  to  give  my  life  to  you.  As  things 
are  now,  I  worry  and  fret  and  wear  until  I  could  snap 


324  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

my  own  head  off,  as  I  did  Sam's  this  morning,  poor 
little  chap !  Xow,  you  are  very  different ;  women 
always  are,  I  guess,  and  you  have  a  family  to  think 
and  do  for — I  have  not  a  soul.  But  patience — even 
yours — ought  to  have  limits.  Even  a  woman,  if 
she  really  loves,  must  want  to  be  married  some 
time.  Lately  it  has  struck  me  that — well,  that  I 
am  doing  all  the  talking  about  this  thing,  and  that 
it  is  time  you  began — if  you  find  it  any  way  inter- 
esting." 

He  spoke  brusquely  at  the  end,  and  turned  to  her 
with  a  frown;  then,  seeing  a  troubled  look  on  her 
face,  he  blamed  himself  for  hurting  her  feelings. 

"  I  have  the  children  on  my  mind,  Seth,"  Jean 
said,  after  a  pause.  "  I  want  to  make  you  happy.  But 
I  must  not  forget  Sam  and  Tom  and  Mamy.  I  will 
tell  you  how  I  plan  things  out.  In  the  spring — and 
I  could  not  come  to  you  before,  whatever  happened — 
Sam  will  go  to  work  under  father  to  learn  the  busi- 
ness, which  may  some  day  be  his.  Tom,  who  is  to 
be  a  lawyer,  as  he  seems  the  smartest  of  the  boys,  is 
to  go  away  to  a  school  at  Marathon.  Mamy  is  the 
difficulty.  Mrs.  Haniman  would  adopt  her  to-mor- 
row, but  the  child  clings  to  me,  and  I  do  not  feel  I 
should  be  doing  my  duty  if  I  gave  her  up  to  any  one 
else.  What  do  you  think?  Would  you  mind  very 
much  if  she  came  to  live  with  us?  " 

"Is  that  all  the  trouble?"  Seth  exclaimed  in  a 
tone  of  genuine  relief.  "  That  is  nothing.  Mamy 
and  I  are  excellent  friends.  She  may  come  and  wel- 
come.    Why  didn't  you  tell  me  of  this  before?  " 

He  laughed,  his  sanguine  nature  already  on  the  re- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  325 

bound;  but  Jean's  face  did  not  brighten,  and  Seth. 
stopped  laughing. 

"  Go  on/'  he  said;  "  there  is  something  more." 

"  Seth/'  she  said  with  a  touch  of  her  old  impul- 
siveness, "  I  wish  you  had  never  asked  me  to  speak 
to  father." 

"Why?" 

"  He  thought  that  I  wanted  to  ask  him  a  favour. 
He  made  me  feel  quite  ashamed  of  it." 

Seth  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  a  man  may  not  ask  a  favour  from  his  future 
father-in-law,  especially  when  it  will  cost  him  noth- 
ing, what  may  he  do?  " 

"  It  was  I,  not  you,  who  had  to  ask  it,"  Jean  re- 
torted with  a  sudden  flash  that  took  Seth  back  three 
years  of  his  life.  "  But  that  is  not  what  I  wanted  to 
say,"  she  added  hastily.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  ask 
him  a  favour  at  all.  I  would  have  scorned  to  do 
such  a  thing.  It  was  simply  a  matter  of  business — 
a  good  business  for  the  board,  for  you  are  the  best 
teacher  they  ever  had,  and,  as  I  told  father,  you  did 
not  ask  him  to  give  you  one  cent  more  than  you  could 
honestly  earn."  ' 

"  You  told  him  that  ?  "  Seth  exclaimed  spitefully, 
cutting  the  horse  with  the  whip.     "  Why?  " 

"  Why— Seth?  "  She  looked  at  him  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  I  repeat  why?  "  he  continued,  lashing  the  horse 
until  he  bolted.  "Keep  quiet,  you  fool!"  to  the 
horse.  "If  you  don't  slow  down,  I'll  cut  you  to 
pieces! — I  asked  you  to  speak,  Jean,  instead  of  doing 
so  myself,  because  the  school  must  give  me  twice 


326  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

what  the  present  man  gets;  that's  all.  I  thought  you 
would  understand.  Now,  your  father  is  Just  the  man 
to  take  you  at  your  word,  for  he  hates  me.  Well,  that 
chance  is  gone.  But  he  is  not  the  only  member  of 
the  board.  I  will  see  Selliger  and  Thorpe  again,  and 
— by  George!  I  did  not  think  of  it  before — John  has 
just  been  made  a  member — I  will  get  at  him." 

"  Seth!  "  Jean  grasped  his  arm  tightly.  "  You 
will  not!  " 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,"  Seth  replied,  setting  his 
teeth  obstinately,  while  something  in  her  tone  made 
him  feel  cold  and  weak,  "  the  thing  has  to  be  done. 
I  will  earn  the  money  they  give  me,  no  fear  of  that. 
But,  first,  I  must  get  it.  If  I  do  not,  we  should  be  no 
nearer  marriage  after  I  get  the  school  than  we  are  to- 
day; and,  rather  than  wait  in  this  way,  I  would  go 
back  to  the  army.  I  am  in  dead  earnest,  I  assure 
you." 

He  looked  it  as  he  lashed  the  frightened  horse. 

But  Jean  did  not  seem  to  have  heard  his  last 
words. 

"  If  you  go  to  John,"  she  cried,  too  angry  for  the 
moment  to  measure  her  words,  "  and  ask  him  to  vote 
you  public  money,  I  can  never  respect  you  again.  It 
would  be  mean,  dishonourable,  and  quite  useless.  In- 
deed, I  would  not  advise  you  to  suggest  such  a  thing 
to  John." 

Seth  turned  from  the  horse  and  looked  at  her 
with  whitening  lips. 

"Indeed!  "  he  said,  slowly.  "Is  that  your  opin- 
ion?    Then  we  will  drop  the  subject." 

He  did  not  speak  again  until  they  got  home,  but 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  327 

drove  at  a  gallop  all  the  way.  When  they  reached 
the  store^  he  led  the  horse  at  once  to  the  stable  and 
groomed  it  himself,  and  Jean  did  not  see  him  until 
after  she  had  put  the  children  to  bed.  Then  she 
found  him  reading  in  the  parlour.  Her  anger  had 
cooled  by  this  time,  though  she  was  still  hurt  and 
surprised. 

"  Seth,  dear,"  she  said,  going  straight  to  him, 
"  tell  me  that  you  did  not  mean  what  you  said  this 
afternoon." 

He  threw  away  his  book. 

"  My  darling,  I  did — but  I  don't  now.  You  were 
right,  and  I  knew  it.  I  am  a  savage,  unprincipled 
brute.  Until  you  belong  to  me  for  good  and  all,  be- 
ware of  my  temper!     But  I  will  not  go  to  John." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

A  LETTEE  came  for  Jean  the  next  morning  from 
Mrs.  Burletson,  inviting  her  and  Seth  and  the  chil- 
dren to  spend  a  day  at  the  farm.  Jean  handed  it 
to  Seth. 

"Shall  we  go?" 

"  Why  do  you  ask?     Don't  you  wish  to?  " 

Jean  filled  Mamy's  plate  with  porridge  before  she 
answered. 

"  Yes,  if  you  would  enjoy  it." 

"  We  will  certainly  go."  He  told  the  children, 
and  watched  their  delight  with  a  curious  grimness. 

"  You  should  have  kept  it  a  secret  till  after 
breakfast,"  Jean  said.     "  They  will  eat  nothing  now." 

They  did  not  eat  much,  and  until  they  were  al- 
lowed to  leave  the  table  talked  incessantly  of  what 
they  would  do  and  see. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  the  farm  the  young  people 
relieved  their  elders  of  their  presence  and  sought  their 
old  haunts  and  revelled  there,  while  John  and  Seth 
went  to  inspect  the  stock,  and  Mrs.  Burletson  and 
Jean  sat  in  their  accustomed  nook  in  the  garden. 

"  My  dear,  you  are  not  well." 

It  was  the  first  remark  Mrs.  Burletson  made  as 
Jean  settled  back  cosily  into  her  chair. 
328 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  329 

"  Don't  say  that,  mother  dear.  I  am  only  a 
little  tired.  I  have  not  been  sick,  and  now  I  feel — 
happy." 

She  sighed  a  contented  sigh,  and  looked  dreamily 
across  the  fields  waving  with  their  crops  of  grain  to 
the  horizon  line. 

"  It  is  eight  months  ago  to-day,"  Mrs.  Burletson 
said,  "  since  you  brought  us  the  news  that  Seth  was 
a  prisoner.  Much  has  come  and  gone  in  those  eight 
months." 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

Another  pause — a  very  long  one. 

"  Jean,  my  daughter,  will  you  listen  to  me?  " 

Jean's  dreaminess  vanished  at  the  old  lady's  tone, 
and  her  heart  beat  painfully. 

"  I  must  speak,  child,"  Mrs.  Burletson  went  on, 
"  though  God  knows  I  am  the  last  who  should.  Yet, 
come  what  may,  you  are  too  dear  to  me  for  my  pride 
to  stand  against  my  duty.  I  promised  your  mother 
I  would  try  and  take  her  place.  I  speak  now  as  your 
mother,  yours  only.  Jean,  you  are  not  happy — you, 
whose  lover  is  home  from  the  war,  delivered  from  his 
peril  through  God's  mercy  by  my  dear  John.  Your 
face  has  care  in  it  that  I  did  not  see  a  month  ago. 
Why  is  this?  What  does  it  mean?  Will  you  tell  me 
if  you  can?  " 

Jean  considered  a  moment. 

"  It  means,  mother,"  she  said — "  it  means  that 
Seth  and  I  do  not  agree  about  things  as  we  used  to- 
do.     We  are  both  to  blame.     But  the  fault  is  mostly 
mine.     How  did  you  think  he  looked?"     She  asked 
the  question  anxiously. 


330  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

"  He  does  not  appear  in  very  great  spirits. 
But  I  do  not  know  his  face  well  enough.  Ask 
John." 

She  saw  Jean  shiver. 

"  Oh,  no.  Indeed,  he  would  not  mind  one  bit. 
I  know  what  is  worrying  Seth.  It  is  want  of  money. 
He  feels  the  waiting  terribly,  and  thinks  I  might  help 
him  if  I  would." 

"  You!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Burletson.  "  Does  he 
want  you  to  earn  a  living  for  him  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  It  is  what  I  feel — what  he  thinks  I 
feel." 

"  What  do  you  feel,  my  dear?  Oh,  be  very  sure. 
I  have  seen  lives  wrecked  and  lost  that  might  have 
been  so  happy  if  girls  had  but  looked  enough  into 
their  hearts  before  they  married.  Your  fate  is  in 
your  own  hands;  but  if  it  would  relieve  you  to  tell 
me  anything " 

She  paused  and  waited  breathlessly. 

"  I  cannot,"  Jean  said  at  last.  "  I  could  not  tell 
any  one..  Besides,  I  have  decided.  If  Seth  gets  the 
place  as  schoolmaster,  we'll  be  married  in  the  spring. 
We  shall  be  poor,  but  I  don't  mind  that.  I  shall  keep 
Mamy  with  me,  and  father  will  pay  for  her.  Three 
years  ago  I  promised  to  be  Seth's  wife.  He  went  to 
the  war  for  my  sake  then;  he  has  no  one  else  to  care 
for  him  now.  So  I  will  do  my  best  to  make  him 
happy.  That  is  right,  mother.  I  know  it  must  be 
right." 

There  was  an  appeal,  almost  a  question,  in  the 
words,  though  they  were  said  firmly  enough.  But 
there  was  no  response  from  Mrs.  Burletson.     For  per- 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  331 

haps  the  only  time  in  her  life  she  dared  not  give 
advice. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Jean,"  was  all  she  said,  "  my  ideas 
would  not  help  you  any.  I  will  keep  them  to  my- 
self." 

They  were  silent  again,  and  looked  out  upon  the 
garden  and  cornjfields,  as  they  had  so  often  done  in 
former  days.  But  they  sat  no  longer  hand-in-hand. 
By  impereeptihle  degrees  Mrs.  Burletson  turned  away, 
took  up  her  knitting  and  became  absorbed  in  it.  A 
separation  had  begun — a  separation  which  Jean  felt 
would  grow  deeper  and  deeper  as  time  went  on,  and 
her  heart  sank. 

The  guests  left  the  farm  early — far  too  early  for 
the  children,  who  grumbled  vigorously.  But  Jean 
was  firm,  and  they  were  at  home  before  seven  o'clock. 
At  nine  Jean  found  Seth  alone,  waiting  for  the  talk 
they  always  had  before  Luke  came  in  from  the  store. 
This  evening  she  saw  at  once  that  he  was  out  of  tem- 
per; and  a  sense  of  weariness,  almost  of  despair,  over- 
came her.  Jean  did  not  remember  that  the  sight  of 
the  substantial  comfort  on  John's  farm,  and  evidence 
of  his  ample  means,  were  gall  and  wormwood  to  Seth. 
He  had  been  thankful  to  get  away  from  it  all — from 
the  keen-faced  old  lady  who  loved  him  not;  even  from 
John,  whose  cordial  and  frank  good  nature  were  an 
aggravation  in  themselves. 

"  I  hope  you  enjoyed  yourself,"  Seth  snapped  out, 
as  Jean  came  in. 

"  Yes,  I  told  you  how  good  Mrs.  Burletson  has 
been  to  me,  ever  since  mother  fell  sick." 

"  Only  Mrs.  Burletson?  " 


332  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

Seth  did  not  mean  anything  serious  by  the  ques- 
tion, but  he  was  in  the  kind  of  humour  when  it  is  a 
relief  to  be  as  disagreeable  as  possible. 

Jean  coloured. 

"  Of  course  I  enjoy  seeing  John,  if  you  mean  that. 
He  is  the  oldest  friend  I  have." 

"  And  the  best?  If  you  want  to  say  it,  don't  mind 
me.     I  am  not  jealous." 

He  spoke  banteringly,  but  an  old,  old  wound 
had  stirred. 

"  The  best,"  Jean  repeated — "  the  best  that  you 
and  I  have  ever  known." 

"Do  you  think  so?  How  some  people  can 
change! " 

Seth  was  really  angry  now.  He  had  spoken  only 
half  the  truth  when  he  said  he  was  not  jealous.  He 
did  not  fear  John  as  a  rival  in  Jean's  affections,  but 
her  words  of  the  day  before  were  rankling  still. 

"  Oh,  I  mean  it,"  he  went  on,  in  answer  to  a  look 
of  amazement  in  Jean's  face.  "  John  is  a  good  fellow. 
I  have  always  said  so;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are 
the  last  person  who  should  hold  him  up  as  a  pattern 
citizen  to  me." 

"  Please  explain  why." 

The  heat  of  old  days,  which  was  seldom  seen  in 
Jean  now,  had  come  to  the  surface  again. 

"  That  is  easy,"  he  retorted.  "  I  have  only  to 
quote  your  own  words.  Who  was  it,  when  some  of 
us  volunteered  for  the  war,  and  threw  away  our 
chances  in  life — and  John  did  not — who  said  he  was 
a  coward,  and  that  she  could  never  respect  such  a  man 
again,  whatever  his  reasons  for  holding  back  might 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  333 

be?  Then  after  we  were  engaged,  and  I  warned  you 
that  we  should  have  to  wait  years  before  we  could  be 
married,  who  said  she  would  rather  wait  ten  years 
for  a  man  who  did  his  duty,  and  then  work  for  his 
living,  than  marry  one  who  meanly  stayed  at  home, 
even  though  he  had  a  million  dollars  a  year?  That 
was  three  years  ago,  you  will  say.  I  grant  that,  but 
you  meant  your  words,  and  some  of  them  hold  good 
still.  Wait  a  moment,"  as  Jean  began  to  speak,  "  I 
have  not  done  yet.  I  am  sick  of  having  John  flung - 
at  my  head.  If  you  think  he  is  so  much  greater  than 
you  used  to  do,  perhaps  you  think  me  corresponding- 
ly less;  indeed,  I  begin  to  guess  this  may  be  so,  after 
what  you  said  the  other  day.  Was  your  promise  to 
marry  me  made  under  a  mistake?  " 

He  flung  the  words,  regardless  of  consequences. 
The  air  had  been  full  of  thunder  lately  and  must  be 
cleared. 

"  Have  you  finished  now  ? "  Jean  said,  as  he 
paused. 

"  Yes.     Speak  your  mind." 

"  I  will.  'You  are  unjust  and  worse.  Not  to  me 
only — I  don't  blame  you  for  that,  I  deserve  it  for 
the  wrong  things  I  said  three  years  ago;  but  to  make 
a  grievance  out  of  what  I  said  of  John,  and  to  speak 
slightingly  of  the  man  who  for  your  sake  faced  cer- 
tain death,  that  is  mean.  I  can  hardly  believe  my 
ears.  Three  years  ago  you  defended  John  when 
every  one  misjudged  him.  You  have  changed  in- 
deed from  the  Seth  I  loved  then." 

"  You  loved?  "  he  said  quickly.    "  Does  that  mean 
that  your  feeling  is  difllerent  now  ?  "    He  was  pale  and 
22 


334  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

grave^  his  iniimtieiice  and  impetuousness  killed  by  a 
sudden  dread. 

"It  means" — Jean  caught  her  breath,  startled 
by  the  turn  he  had  given  to  her  words — "  it  means 
that  if  you  seriously  believe  that  anything  I  said  about 
John  in  my  blindness  and  ignorance  is  still  true,  then 
you  are  not  the  man  I  loved." 

"  In  short,  that  you  now  care  for  John  more  than 
you  care  for  me?     Come,  let  me  hear  the  truth." 

"  Seth!  you  are  insulting  and  cruel.  My  words 
meant  no  such  thing,  and  you  know  it." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  do  not  know  it.  If  you 
feel  insulted,  I  am  very  sorry.  I  do  not  intend  to 
give  you  pain." 

"  What  right  have  you  to  make  such  an  insinua- 
tion? " 

"  I  don't  insinuate.  For  God's  sake,  Jean,  do  not 
misunderstand  me!  I  respect  John,  I  say.  I  rever- 
ence you.  When  I  brought  in  his  name  first,  it  was  a 
Joke — in  bad  taste,  I  admit — but  only  a  joke.  Then 
I  lost  my  temper.  You  are  very  angry  at  what  I  said 
— quite  right!  But  I  cannot  help  thiriking  there  is 
something  more  on  your  mind,  whether  you  are  aware 
of  it  or  not.  Let  me  ask  one  thing  more.  Can  you 
say  now,  solemnly,  that  you  will  take  mc  as  your 
husband  and  love  me,  for  better  or  worse,  for 
richer  or  poorer,  till  death  do  us  part — can  you  say 
that?" 

There  was  a  pause  before  Jean  answered,  only  for 
an  instant,  but  to  Seth  it  seemed  eternity. 

"  I  have  promised  to  be  your  wife,"  she  said,  in  a 
low,  steady  voice.     "  I  will  keep  that  promise." 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  335 

"  That  is  not  enough.  I  want  more  than  that. 
You  must  tell  me " 

Jean  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  "  jSTot  to- 
night. To-morrow  we  will  talk  it  quietly  out.  I 
could  not  now.     I  am  too  tired." 

Seth  looked  at  her,  breathing  hard;  then  he  con- 
trolled himself,  and  drew  her  hands  into  his  own  and 
kissed  her. 

"  Poor  love,  you  are  worn  out  with  my  tantrums. 
Go  to  bed  at  once.     I  will  let  it  be." 

Jean's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  All  her  anger  had 
evaporated  long  ago;  she  felt  very  weary  and  very 
grateful. 

"  You  are  good.  Do  not  worry  over  me.  It  will 
be  all  right  to-morrow." 

When  Jean  had  gone,  Seth  took  up  a  book  to 
read;  but  he  found  the  air  of  the  room  stifling,  and 
went  into  the  store.  This  was  worse;  so  he  strolled 
out  into  the  street,  and,  avoiding  all  acquaintances 
and  friends,  walked  on  until  the  town  was  behind 
him  and  he  was  alone  in  the  silent  starlit  night.  He 
remained  out  for  two  hours;  and  got  back  just  as 
Luke  was  shutting  up  for  the  night. 

"  Late  walking,  Seth." 

"  I  like  it  best." 

"  It  is  a  way  young  folk  have  sometimes.  I  have 
been  hunting  for  you." 

"  On  business?  " 

"  Yes.  The  board  has  met  and  fixed  up  about  the 
school.     They  will  offer  it  to  you." 

"That  so?" 

"  They  took  some  time  to  do  it.     They  wanted 


336  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

you,  but  balked  at  the  money  you  need.  The  vote 
went  in  your  favour  at  the  last  though;  and  if  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  a  year  and  a  house  will  meet  your 
ideas,  the  thing  is  settled." 

Seth  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"  Indeed,  yes.  I  never  thought  they  would  give 
so  much." 

"  Nor  did  I,"  said  Luke  with  a  dryness  of  tone 
which  Seth  noticed  at  once.  "  Nor  would  they,  but 
you  had  a  friend  who  argued  for  you  till  he  got  his 
way.  The  thing  came  the  way  it  did  because  of  him. 
You  needn't  say  I  said  so." 

"Who  was  it?     You?" 

"  No,  John  Burletson." 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

Seth  was  thoroughly  weary,  tired  out  in  body 
and  brain,  when  he  met  Luke.  He  had  been  trying 
to  analyze  his  talk  with  Jean  and  decide  judiciously 
whether  she  had  only  been  indignant  with  his  ill- 
temper,  or  whether  her  love  had  really  been  slowly 
dying  in  three  years  of  separation  until  only  "  duty  " 
remained.  He  had  failed,  as  men  under  such  circum- 
stances always  do  fail,  his  mind  becoming  at  last  a 
mere  pendulum  swinging  back  and  forward.  It  was 
absurd  to  doubt  her  love;  it  was  certain  that  she  did 
not  love.  Why  should  she  have  renewed  her  promise 
to  marry  him  if  her  love  were  dead  ?  Why  should  she 
be  so  indignant  at  his  reminder  of  his  old  sentiments 
if  those  sentiments  had  not  undergone  a  revolution? 
— and  so  on. 

Two  hours  of  such  reflection  will  reduce  the 
strongest  man  to  imbecility.  Seth  walked  home  limp 
and  nerveless.  Then  came  Luke's  news,  and  excite- 
ment took  the  place  of  lassitude;  hope  became  para- 
mount, and  Seth  went  to  bed  to  sleep  soundly  and 
dream  happy  dreams. 

He  woke  betimes  next  morning,  and,  with  his 
spirits  still  at  their  best,  sought  Jean.  There  could 
be  no  time  for  any  talk  now,  for  the  children  per- 

337 


338  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

vaded  the  place,  but  he  might  find  opportunity  to  tell 
her  about  the  school.  He  caught  her  in  the  passage, 
and  before  he  spoke  turned  her  face  to  the  light.  He 
was  struck  in  a  moment  by  her  paleness,  the  dark 
rings  under  her  eyes,  and  the  coldness  of  her  fin- 
gers. 

"  Jean,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  have  not  slept  all 
night." 

"  Not  very  much." 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you — something  most 
astounding!  " 

He  felt  her  hands  tremble  and  shrink. 

"  You  mean  about  the  school?  " 

"Youknowit  all,  then?" 

"  Father  has  just  told  me." 

He  drew  a  slow,  deep  breath,  and  the  light  in  his 
eyes  died  out. 

"It  is  rather  overwhelming,  isn't  it?"  he  said 
faintly. 

The  clasp  of  her  hands  grew  firm  again. 

"  It  is  what  you  wished,  exactly." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  "dazed  expression.  There 
was  not  a  spark  of  colour  in  her  cheeks;  yet  she  held 
his  hand. 

"  I  wish  I  could  understand  you,  Jean." 

She  shook  her  head  and  smiled  at  him. 

"Do  men  ever  understand  women?  Come  to 
your  breakfast,  dear  boy,  and  never  mind  me." 

He  turned  slowly  to  obey  her,  when  the  passage 
door  was  opened  and  with  a  rush  Sam  tore  up  to  them 
with  a  letter  in  his  hand. 

"  It's  for  Seth,  from  the  army!  "  he  cried.     "  I've 


THE  GOSPEL   WRIT  IN  STEEL.  339 

run  all  the  way  from  the  post  office.  I  guessed  it 
might  he  important." 

They  laughed  at  the  hoy's  earnest  face,  and  then 
joined  the  others. 

"  From  the  captain  of  my  company,''  said  Seth, 
when  he  had  read  the  letter,  looking  at  Jean. 
"  Grant  is  pressing  Lee  hard,  he  writes,  and  the  army 
feel  that  they  have  a  man  in  command  who  means 
business  at  last.  The  cry  is  for  men,  fighting  men — 
not  bounty- jumpers,  who  get  five  hundred  dollars  for 
enlisting  and  run  at  the  first  shot.  Cap  says  there  was 
never  greater  need  for  men  than  now,  or  a  better 
chance  of  promotion." 

He  turned  to  his  letter  again,  and  read  it  slowly, 
one  eye  on  Jean  all  the  time,  while  his  coffee  cooled 
and  his  bacon  remained  untasted.  At  last  he  put  it 
aside  and  began  to  eat.  Suddenly,  as  if  he  had  re- 
membered something,  he  dropped  his  knife  and  fork. 

"  Excuse  me,  Jean.  I  have  a  man  I  want  to  see," 
and  leaving  the  table  he  hurried  away,  half  his  break- 
fast still  untasted. 

Luke  Selby  looked  after  him  knowingly. 

"  Is  our  schoolmaster  touched  with  war  fever 
again  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  likely,"  Jean  said,  "  after  what  you 
told  him." 

"  Well — you  know,  I  do  not.  If  he  should  go,  it 
will  be  to  stay.  There  will  not  be  another  vacancy 
in  the  school,  that  I  can  tell  him.  What  else  he  is 
fit  for,  I  have  not  a  notion,  but  it  is  not  my  business." 

Jean  did  her  work  very  badly  this  morning.  She 
was  thankful  it  was  not  a  holiday. 


340  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

In  an  hour  a  message  came  from  Seth.  It  was  a 
scrawl  in  pencil  on  the  leaf  of  a  pocket-book :  "  Don't 
wait  lunch.     I  can't  tell  when  I  may  be  back," 

The  note  was  brought  by  one  of  the  lads  from 
the  Burletson  farm,  who  said  in  answer  to  questions, 
while  devouring  doughnuts  and  milk:  "  I  don't 
guess  he  will  be  round  to-day,  Miss  Jean,  if  you  ask 
me.  It  is  market-day,  but  the  boss  is  staying  at  home 
with  Seth  and  sending  Jim,  which  I've  never  known 
him  to  do  before." 

At  the  farm  John  and  Seth  were  alone  together. 

"  They  want  me  back  at  the  front,"  Seth  had  said, 
by  way  of  greeting,  handing  John  the  letter.  "  I 
have  just  come  to  t(;ll  you  that  I  reckon  to  go." 

John's  reply  had  been  to  lead  the  way  to  the  upper 
story  of  an  old  granary  and  point  to  a  pile  of  corn- 
sacks. 

"  Set  down  there.  Go  right  ahead  and  tell  me 
what  this  means." 

"  If  cap's  letter  had  come  twenty-four  hours 
ago,"  Seth  continued,  "  I  would  not  have  looked  at  it. 
Now — it  is  different.  I  owe  it  to  you  that  you  should 
see  my  reasons,  though." 

"  I  see  nothing  yet." 

Seth  clasped  his  hands  across  his  knees  and  looked 
John  in  the  face. 

"  It  would  be  a  wicked  business  for  a  man  to  go  to 
the  war  if  he  were  'bout  to  marry." 

"  Then  you  cannot  go." 

"  Yes — for  I  shall  never  marry." 

John  looked  up  to  see  whether  his  companion  had 
taken  leave  of  his  senses. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  341 

"What  has  happened,  then?" 

Seth  rocked  himself  to  and  fro,  as  if  in  bodily 
pain,  with  white-set  face. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  John  went  on  before  Seth  could 
answer,  "  that  I  have  any  business  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion, but  why  have  you  come  to  me  at  all  ?  " 

"  Because  I  want  advice — no — not  advice.  I 
mean  I  need  to  talk  to  some  one  I  can  trust,  or  I'll  go 
mad.  Jean  does  not  care — that — for  me!  Don't 
shake  your  head.  D — n  it,  man,  should  I  talk  like  this 
if  I  were  not  sure?  No,  she  has  not  said  so,  she  won't 
say  so;  but  I  know  it  now.  See,  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it  from  the  beginning " — then,  recollecting 
himself — "  no,  I  can't  do  that.  But  it  was  this  Avay: 
I  had  not  a  suspicion  until  last  night.  Then  we  had 
a  long  talk,  which  made  me  feel  very  uneasy.  I  did 
not  see  clearly  though;  the  idea  was  too  sudden,  too 
terrible  to  realize  all  at  once;  but  the  more  I  thought 
about  it  the  bigger  it  grew.  Things  that  have  hap- 
pened since  we  came  back  from  Georgia,  things  I  had 
not  noticed,  took  hold  upon  my  mind  last  night  and 
held  me.  But  this  morning,  when  I  told  her  of  the 
school,  then  I  l-new.  She  was  brave,  loyal  to  the  last, 
God  bless  her!  She  does  not  know  now  that  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  go " 

John  stopped  him. 

"  You  have  not  told  her?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

"  Then  go  and  do  it  at  once." 

"  I  have  not  finished,"  Seth  went  on, 

John  went  to  the  granary  door. 

"  When  Jean  knows  and  has  given  you  her  answer. 


342  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

come  back  to  me  and  we  will  talk  all  day  if  you  wish. 
I  will  hear  nothing  till  then." 

He  was  as  pale  as  Seth  now,  and  as  much  excited, 
though  his  voice  was  quiet.     Seth  went  up  to  him. 

"  John,  if  you  were  any  other  man,  what  you  say 
would  be  right.  But,  after  Santanelle,  this  will  not 
do.  Jean  shall  know  that  I  am  going  away;  but  you 
must  tell  her.     I  am  determined  upon  that." 

"  I  tell  her  ?    You  are  mad !  " 

"  Then  I  will  write  from  Washington." 

"  You  are  clean  crazy,  Seth." 

"  I  wish  I  were." 

"  If  you  go  to  the  war,"  John  went  on,  raising  his 
voice,  "  I  tell  you  that  you  are  a  lunatic  or  a  scoun- 
drel." 

"Why?" 

"  When  you  and  I  were  at  the  stables  yesterday, 
Jean  and  my  mother  talked  of  you,  and  mother,  see- 
ing Jean  was  worried,  asked  the  cause.  She  found 
that  the  chief  one  was  your  own  poor  chances,  as  you 
thought,  of  marriage.  Your  happiness  was  Jean's 
first  consideration  and  her  last.  As  you  have  said  so 
much,  I  will  tell  you  something.  After  hearing  this 
from  mother,  I  went  to  that  school  meeting.  They 
had  a  place  for  you,  but  there  was  not  enough  money. 
I  told  them — they  were  all  old  friends — how  it  stood, 
and,  privately,  out  of  respect  to  what  you've  done  for 
your  country  all  these  years,  they  made  the  money 
up  to  fifteen  hundred.  After  the  war  is  over  a  repre- 
sentation will  l)e  made  to  the  authorities  for  a  pen- 
sion for  you,  l)ut,  even  though  that  may  fail,  the 
money  will  not.      That  I  guarantee.      jSTow,  what 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  343" 

room  is  there  for  such  nonsense  as  you  have  in  your 
brain  ?  " 

At  this  Seth  smiled  sadjy,  but  the  expression  of 
his  face  became  firmer  than  before. 

"  The  thing  is  where  it  was,  old  friend,  though 
you  shame  me  more  than  I  thought  was  possible." 

"  Pshaw!  I  did  not  do  it  for  you.  But  what  more 
do  you  want?  " 

"  Her  love,"  Seth  cried  with  sudden  fierceness. 
"  I  know  as  well — better  than  you — that  she  will 
marry  me.  But  why?  Because  she  has  promised, 
and  will  not  break  her  word.  I  will  not  have  that, 
I  tell  you." 

"  That  cannot  be  all." 

"  It  is.     If  you  doubt  it,  ask  her  yourself." 

"  God  forbid! " 

But  Seth  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it  hard. 

"  John,  old  friend — licr  friend  who  has  never 
failed  her  yet — statid  by  her  and  by  me.  Heaven 
knows  we  need  it  sorely  enough." 

John  faltered  for  the  first  time,  and  turned  away. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Take  a  letter  to  Jean." 

He  made  an  emphatic  motion  of  dissent. 

"  Wait  till  I  have  finished,"  Seth  went  on.  "  If 
you  will  do  it,  I  promise  to  stay  here  and  see  her 
again.  If  you  won't  go,  then  I  am  off  to  the  front  to- 
night, I  swear  I  am!  " 

John  set  his  teeth. 

"  You  would  desert  Jean  and  spoil  her  life?" 

"  I  will  set  her  free  and  spoil  my  own.  But  this 
is  foolishness.     I  know  she  does  not  care  for  me,  so 


344  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

my  miud  is  fixed.  But  if  you  will  take  a  letter  I'll 
remain  here  till  you  get  back,  and  give  it  another 
chance.  If  you  do  not,  I  shall  not  write  until  I  am 
with  the  boys." 

They  looked  one  another  in  the  eyes  and  did  not 
speak  for  a  minute. 

"  Is  there  no  other  way  ?  "  John  groaned  at  last. 

"  None,  so  help  me  God!  " 

"  If  I  go,  you  promise  to  see  her?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  come,  then." 

They  walked  to  the  house,  passed  Mrs.  Burletsou 
to  her  great  surprise  without  a  word,  went  to  the 
study,  and  shut  the  door.  A  few  minutes  later  John 
came  out  alone. 

"  Mother,  I  am  going  to  ride  to  town.  Seth  will 
remain  till  I  return.  I  shall  take  Black  Warrior,  so 
I  shall  not  be  long.    You  shall  hear  all  by-and-bye." 

He  kissed  her  and  hurried  away.  The  horse  was 
a  thoroughbred,  and  Chippewa  was  reached  in  six 
minutes.  But  though  Black  Warrior  was  in  a  lather 
and  had  covered  his  rider  with  flecks  of  foam,  John 
was  as  pale  as  when  he  left  the  farm.  He  gave  his 
horse  to  a  boy  at  the  store,  walked  to  the  private  door 
without  a  word  of  greeting  to  any  one,  and  stood  in 
the  kitchen  face  to  face  with  Jean. 

"  Seth  is  well,"  he  said  quickly,  as  she  started  up. 
"  Allow  me  to  shut  that  door."  He  did  so,  Jean 
watching  him  with  wondering  eyes. 

"  I  have  brought  you  this  letter.  Read  it,  please, 
then  we  can  talk." 

He  gave  her  the  note  and  went  to  the  window. 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  345 

He  heard  the  rustle  of  paper.  She  had  read  it.  The 
blow  had  fallen.  With  an  eifort  he  turned  to  look  at 
her.  She  was  standing,  as  if  in  a  dream,  looking  into 
the  fire,  the  letter  in  her  hand,  neatly  folded.  John 
breathed  heavily  a  moment  and  then  spoke  with  diffi- 
culty.    Her  silence  oppressed  him. 

"  I  will  go  now  and  bring  him  to  you." 

She  looked  up  at  the  words. 

"  Wait,  please.  I  want  to  think  a  moment.  Why 
did  he  not  come  himself?  " 

"  He  is  crazed  Just  now  with  the  morbid  fancy 
that  you  do  not  care.  You  know  why  I  came  in- 
stead?" 

John  asked  the  question  sharply. 

"  Seth  doesn't  tell  me." 

"  He  might  have  done  so,  I  think,"  John  said, 
with  a  touch  of  bitterness.  "  I  came,  because  other- 
wise he  would  have  left  Chippewa  without  seeing  you 
at  all." 

She  looked  up  with  a  quick,  questioning  glance, 
but  she  did  not  speak. 

"  I  could  not  allow  that,"  John  went  on  huskily. 
"  It  is  just  some  fever  in  his  blood.  He  loves  you 
dearly  all  the  time." 

"  You  are  very  good  to  Seth." 

"I  did  not  do  it,"  he  said  coldly,  "for  Seth's 
sake." 

She  turned  from  him,  so  that  he  could  not  see 
her  face. 

"  It  was  very  kind  and  thoughtful  of  you.  I 
will  write  to  him.  He  must  certainly  come  and  see 
me  before  he  goes." 


34:6  THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL. 

She  went  to  a  side-table  and  wrote  a  few 
words,  and  came  back.  John  took  the  note  me- 
chanically. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  he  said,  the  words 
coming  out  one  by  one,  as  if  against  his  will.  "  I 
have  no  right — but  we  are  old  friends,  you  and  I. 
Do  you — don't  you — love  this  man  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered  gravely,  "  not  as  he  loves 
me." 

"  Then  he  was  right,  after  all." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  That  you  would  have  married  him  because  you 
promised,  but  that — that  you  did  not  care — enough." 

"  That  is  true,"  she  paused,  then  went  on  hurried- 
ly: "I  thought  I  was  right  to  keep  my  promise  to 
him.  Now  I  see  that  I  was  very  wrong.  But  he  was 
poor  and  lonely.  It  seemed  so  hard,  so  cruel,  to  give 
him  up  after  he  had  waited  all  these  years.  Yet  it 
was  not  right.  It  was  unjust  to  him  and  to — to  my- 
self.    I  can  see  it  now." 

She  moved  away  to  put  the  ink  and  pen  into  their 
places.  John  stood  and  watched  her,  and  then  all  at 
once  he  realized  why  Seth  had  made  him  come.  It 
was  absurd — it  was  impossible — yet  his  head  reeled 
with  the  thought. 

"  Good-bye,  Jean." 

"  Good-bye." 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  and,  as  John's  closed  upon 
it,  all  the  passionate  love  and  yearning  that  he  had 
held  down  so  long  swelled  up  in  his  heart  and  clam- 
oured to  be  heard;  he  tried  to  be  loyal  to  Seth,  but  it 
would  not  go.     He  went  to  the  door  and  turned  the 


THE  GOSPEL  WRIT  IN  STEEL.  347 

handle,  then  he  closed  it  again,  came  back,  and  took 
her  hands. 

At  the  farm  the  minutes  came  and  went,  and  an 
hour  passed  before  the  black  horse  returned.  Mrs. 
Burletson  met  John  at  the  front  door. 

"  Seth  in  the  study,  mother?  " 

"  Yes,  but  what  has  happened  ?  Quick,  tell  me, 
John." 

He  kissed  her  lovingly. 

"  I  will  very  soon,  but  I  must  go  to  Seth." 

Seth,  however,  was  already  there.  A  glance  at 
John's  face  told  him  all,  and  taking  John  affection- 
ately by  the  arm,  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Burletson. 

"  Congratulate  me.  Up  to  this  morning  I  owed 
your  son  more  than  any  man  ever  owed  another. 
Now  the  first  instalment  of  the  debt  is  paid. — John, 
old  friend,  I  shall  write  to  the  President  to-day  and 
tell  him  that  the  boy  who  picked  the  apple  did  not 
get  it,  after  all." 


THE    END. 


APPLETONS'   TOWN   AND   COUNTRY   LIBRARY. 


PUBLISHED    SEMIMONTHLY. 


The  Steel  Ilammer.    Bj'  L.  Ulbach. 

Eve.    By  8.  Baring-Gould. 

For  Fifteen  Years.    By  L.  Ulbach. 

A  Couttsel  of  Perfection.  By  L. 
Malet. 

The  Deemster.    By  H.  Caixe. 

.  The  Bondman.    By  H.  CaiNe. 

A  Virginia  Inhentance.  By  E. 
Pendleton. 

Ninttte.    By  the  author  of  Vera. 

"  The  Right  Honourable."  By  J. 
McCarthy  and  Mrs.  Campbell- 
Praed. 

TTie  Silence  of  Dean  Maitlatid.  By 
M.  Grat. 

Mrs.  Larimer.    By  L  Malet. 

The  Elect  Lady.  By  G.  MacDonald. 

The  Mystery  of  the  '^ Ocean  Star." 
By  W.  C.  Russell. 

Aristocracy. 

A  Recoiling  Vengeance.  By  F. 
Barrett. 

The  Secret  of  Fontaine-la-  Croix.  By 
M.  Field. 

The  Master  of  Rathkelly.  By  H. 
Smart. 

Donovan.    By  E.  Ltall. 

TTiis  Mortal  CoU.    By  G.  Allen. 

A  Fair  Emigrant.  By  R.  Mulhol- 
land. 

The  Apostate.    By  E.  Daudet. 

Raleigh  Westgate.  By  H.  K.  John- 
son. 

Arius  the  Libyan. 

Constance,  and  Calbots  Rival.  By 
J.  Hawthorne. 

We  Two.    By  E.  Ltall. 

A  Dreamer  of  Dreams.  By  the  au- 
thor of  Thbth. 

The  Ladies'  Gallery.  By  J.  McCar- 
thy and  Mrs.  CAsiPBELL-PRAEn. 

The  Reproach  of  Annesley.  By  M. 
Gray. 

JVear  to  Happiness. 

In  the  Wire  Grass.  By  L.  Pendle- 
ton. 

Lace.    By  P.  Lindau. 
T/ie  Black  Poodle.    By  F.  Anstey. 

AtneHcan  Coin.  By  the  author  of 
Aristocracy. 

Won  by  Waiting.    By  E.  Lyall. 

The  Story  of  Helen  Davenant.  By 
V.  Fane. 

The  Light  of  Her  Countenance.    By 

H.  H.  BOYESEN. 

Mistress  Beatrice  Cope.    By  M.  E. 

Le  Clerc. 
The  Knight-Errant.    By  E.  Lyall. 
In  the  Golden  Days.    By  E  Lyall. 
Giraldi.    By  R.  G.  Debing. 


39.  A  Hardy  Noi'seman.    By  E.  Ltall. 

40.  The  Romance  of  Jenny  Harloive,  and 

Sketches  of  Maritime  Life.    By  W. 
C.  Russell. 

41.  Passion's  Slave.    By  R.  Ashe-King. 
43.  The  Awakening  of  Mary  Femvick. 

By  B.  Whitby. 

43.  Countess  Loreley.    By  R.  Menger. 

44.  Blind  Love.    By  W.  Collins. 

45.  The  Dean's  Daughter.    By  8.  F.  F. 

Veitch. 

46.  Countess  Irene.    By  J.  Fogertt. 

47.  Robert  Browning's  Principal  Short- 

er Poems. 

48.  Frozen  Hearts.    By  G.  W.  Applb- 

ton. 

49.  Djambek  the  Georgian.    By  A.  G. 

von  Suttner. 

50.  The  Craze  of  Christian  Engelhart. 

By  H.  F.  Darnell. 

51.  Led.    By  W.  A.  Hammond,  M.  D. 

52.  Aline.    By  H.  Greville. 

53.  Joost  Avelingh.    By  M.  Maartens. 

54.  Kuty  of  Catoctin.    By  G.  A.  Town- 

send. 

55.  Throckmorton.    By  ]\I.  E.  Seawtill. 

56.  Expatnation.    By    the    author    of 

Aristocracy. 

57.  Geoffrey    Hampstead.     By    T.    S. 

Jarvis. 

58.  Dmitri.    By  F.  W.  Bain,  M.  A. 

59   Part  of  the  Property.  By  B.  Whitbt. 

60.  Bismarck  in  Private  Life.     By  a 

Fellow-Student. 

61.  In  Low  Relief.    By  M.  Roberts. 

62.  The    Canadians   of    Old.     By    P. 

GASpfi. 

63.  A  Squire  of  Low  Degree.    By  L.  A. 

Long. 

64.  A  Flvttered  Dovecote.    By  G.  M. 

Fenn. 

65.  The  Nugents  of  Carriconna.    By  T. 

Hopkins. 

66.  A  Sensitive  Plant.    By  E.  and  D. 

Gerard. 

67.  Dona  Luz.    By  J.  Valera.    Trans- 

lated by  Mrs.  M.  J.  Serrano. 

68.  Pepita  Ximenez.     By  J.   Valera. 

Translated  by  Mrs.  M.  J.  Ser- 
rano. 

69.  TJie  Primes  and  their  Neighbors. 

By  R.  M.  Johnston. 

70.  The  Iron  Game.    By  H.  F.  Keen  an. 

71.  Stories  of  Old  New  Spain.    By  T. 

A.  JAN\^ER. 

72.  The  Maid  of  Honor.    By  Hon.  L. 

WlNGPIELD. 

73.  In  the  Heart  of  the  Storm.    By  M. 

Gray. 

74.  Consequences.    By  E.  Castle. 


APPLETONS'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LinnARY. —{Continyed.) 


75.  The   Three  Miss  Kings.     By  A. 

Cambridge. 

76.  A  Maittr  of  Skill.    By  B.Whitby. 

77.  Maid  Marian,  and  Other  Stoi'ies. 

By  M.  E.  Seawell. 

78.  One  Woman's  Wai/.    By  E.  Pen- 

dleton. 
V9.  A  Merciful  Divorce.     By  F.  W. 
Maude. 

80.  Stejihen  EllicoWs  Daughter.     By 

Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 

81.  One  Reason  Why.    By  B.  Whitby. 
83.  Tlie   Tragedy  of  Ida  Noble.     By 

W.  C.  RUf^SELL. 

83.  The  Johnstovm  Stage,  and  Other 

Stories.    By  R.  H.  Fletcher. 

84.  AWidoiver Indeed.  ByR. Bkough- 

TON  and  E.  Bisland. 

85.  The  Flight  of  a  Shadow.    By  G. 

MacDonald. 

86.  Love  or  Money.    By  K.  Lee. 

87.  NotAllinVain.  By  A.  Cambridge. 

88.  It    Happened    Yesterday.     By  F. 

Marshall. 

89.  My  Guardian.    By  A.  Cambridge. 

90.  The  Story  of  Philip  Methuen.    By 

Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 

91.  Amethyst.    By  C.  R.  Coleridge. 
93.  Don    Bravlio.      By    J.    Valera. 

TrauBlated  by  C.  Bell. 

93.  The   Chronicles  of  Mr.    Bill    Wil- 

liams.   By  R.  M.  Johnston, 

94.  A  Queen  of  Curds  and  Cream.  By 

D.  Gerard.' 

95.  "  La  Bella "  and  Others.    By  E. 

96.  '^  December  Foses.''  By  Mrs.  Camp- 

bell-Praed. 

97.  Jean  de  Jurdren.    Bv  J.  Schultz. 

98.  Etelkti's  Vow.    Bv  D.  Gerard. 

99.  Cross  Currents.  By  M.  A.  Dickens. 

100.  IRs  Lif<  "s  Muf/iitt.   By  T.  Elmslie. 

101.  Passilig  the  'J.oee  of  Wo7nen.     By 

Mrn.  .1.  11.  Nioedell. 

102.  In  Old  St.  st<  pheu's.  By  J.  Drake. 

103.  I'hi  li,  rk<  li  u"  and  their  Neighbors. 

By  M.  E.  Seawell. 

104.  Moini  Maclean,   Medical  Student. 

By  G.  TuAVKRS. 

105.  Mrs.  Bligh.    By  R.  Broughton. 

106.  A   Stvmble  on  tJie  Threshold.    By 

J.  Payn. 

107.  Hanging  Moss.    By  P.  Lindau. 

108.  A    Comedy  of  Elopement.    By  C. 

Reid. 

109.  In  the  Svntime  of  her  Youth.    By 

B.  Whitby. 

110.  Stori£S  in  Black  and  mite.    By  T. 

Hardy  and  Others. 
llOi.  Aft  Englishman  in  Paris. 

111.  Commander  Mendoza.    By  J.  Va- 

LKHA. 

112.  Dr.  BaulVs  I'hcory.    By  Mrs.  A.  M. 

DlEUL. 


113.  Children  of  Destiny.     By  M.  B. 

Seawell. 

114.  A  Little  Minx.    By  A.  Cambridge. 

115.  CapVn  Davy's  Honeymoon.    By  H. 

Caine. 

116.  The   Voice  of  a  Flower.     By  E. 

Gerard. 

117.  Singularly  Deluded.  By  S.Grand. 

118.  Suspected.    By  L.  Stratenus. 

119.  Lvcia,   Hugh,  and  Another.     By 

Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 

120.  The  Tutor's  Secret.    By  V.  Cuer- 

BULIEZ. 

121.  F7'o/n  the  Five  Rivers.   By  Mrs.  F. 

A.  Steel. 

122.  An  Innocent  Impostor,  and  Other 

Stories.    By  M.  Gray. 

123.  Ideala.    By  S.  Grand. 

124.  A  Cornedy  of  Masks.    By  E.  Dow- 

son  and  A.  Moore. 

125.  Relics.    By  F.  MacNab. 

126.  Dodo:  A  Detail  of  the  Day.    By 

E.  F.  Benson. 

127.  A  Wcmian  ofEwty.  By  E.  Stuart. 

128.  Diana  7'ethpest.    By  M.  Cholmon- 

DELEY. 

129.  The  Recipi  for  Diamonds.    By  C. 

J.  C.  Hyne. 

130.  Christina  Chard.    By  Mrs.  Camp- 

bell-Praed. 

131.  A    Gray  Eye  or   So.      By   F.  F. 

Moore. 

132.  Earlscourt.    By  A.  Allardyoe. 

133.  A    Marriage    Ceremony.      By   A. 

Cambridge. 

134.  A   Ward  in   Chancery.     By  Mrs. 

Alexander. 

135.  Lot  13.    By  D.  Gerard. 

130.  Our    Manifold    Nature.      By    S. 

Grand. 
137.  A  Costly  Freak.    By  U.  Gray. 
i:j8.  A  Beginner.    By  R.  Broughton. 
r39.  A  Yellow  Aster.    By  Mrs.  M.  Caf- 

FYN  ("ToTA"). 

140.  The  IhMcmi.    By  E.  F.  Benson. 

141.  The  Trespasser.    By  G.  Pai.-ker. 

142.  The  Rich  Miss  Riddell.     By   D. 

Gerard. 

143.  Mary  Femvick's  Daughter.    By  B. 

Whitby. 

144.  Bed  IHanwncls.   By  J.  McCarthy. 

145.  A  DaugfUer  of  Music.    By  G.  Col- 

more. 
140.  Ovthni'  and  lawmaker.    By  Mrs. 

CAI1PHELI,-Pi!AED. 

147.  Dr.  JuikI  of  Harley  Street.    By  A. 

Kknealy. 

148.  Gem-ite  Vanderi lie's  Husband.    By 

C.  E.  Raimond. 

149.  Vashti  and  Esther. 

150.  Timar's    'Two    Worlds.     By    M. 

JOKAI. 

151.  A  Victim  of  Good  Luck.    By  W.  E. 

NORRIS. 


APPLETONS'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRARY.— (Continued.) 


152.  The  Trail  of  the  Sword.    By  G. 

Parker. 

153.  A  Mild  Barbarian.    By  E.  Faw- 

CETT. 

134.  The    God    in    the   Car.     By   A. 
Hope. 

155.  Children  of  Circumstance.  By  Mrs. 

M.  Capptn. 

156.  At  the  Gate  of  Samaria.    By  W.  J. 

Locke. 

157.  The  Justification  of  Andrew  Le- 

brun.    By  P.  Barrett. 

158.  Dust  and  Laurels.    By  M.  L.  Pen- 

DEKBD. 

159.  The  Good  Ship  Mohock.    By  W.  C. 

Russell. 

160.  Noemi.    By  S.  BARiNG-GrOULD. 

161.  The  Honour  of  Savelli.     By  S.  L. 

Yeats. 

162.  Kitty's  Engagement.    By  F.  Wab 

DEN. 

163.  The  Mermaid.    By  L.  Dougall. 

164.  An  Arranged  Marriage.     By  D. 

Gerard. 

165.  Eve's  Ransom.    By  G.  Gissing. 

166.  The.  Marriage  of  Esther.    By  G. 

BOOTHBT. 

167.  Fidelis.    By  A.  Cambridge. 

168.  Into  the  Highways  and  Hedges.  By 

F.  P.  MONTRKSOR. 

169.  The  Vengeance  of  James  Vansittart. 

By  Mrs.  J.  H.Needell. 

170.  A  Study   in   Prejudices.      By  G. 

Paston. 

171.  The  Mistress  of  Quest.    By  A.  Ser- 

geant. 

172.  In  the  Tear  of  Jubilee.    By  G.  Gis- 

sing. 

173.  In    Old  New    England.     By   H. 

BUTTERWORTH. 

174.  Mrs.  Musgrave— and  Her  Husband. 

By  R.  Marsh. 

175.  Xot  Cminting  the  Cost.    By  Tasma. 

176.  Out  of  Due  Season.    By  A.  Ser- 

geant. 

177.  Scylla    or     Charybdis?     By     R. 

Bhoughton. 

178.  In  Defiance  of  the  King.    By  C.  C. 

HOTUHKISS. 

179.  A     Bid    for    Fortune.      By     G. 

BoOTHBT. 

180.  The  King  of  Andamun.    By  J.  M. 

Cobban. 

181.  Mrs.   Ti-egaskiss.    By  Mrs.  Camp- 

bell-Praed. 
183.  The  Desire  of  the  Moth.    By  C. 
Vane. 

183.  A  Self-Denying  Ordinance.    By  M. 

Hamilton. 

184.  Successors  to  the  Title.    By  Mrs.  L. 

B.  Walpord. 

185.  The  Lost  Stradivanus.    By  J.  M. 

Palkner. 

186.  The  Wrong  Man.    By  D.  Gerard. 


187.  In  the  Day  of  Adversity.    By  J. 

Bloundelle-Burton. 

188.  Mistress  Dorothy  Marvin.    By  J.  C. 

189.  A  Flash  of  Summer.    By  Mrs.  W. 

190.  The  Dancer  in  Yellow.    By  W.  E. 

NORRIS. 

191.  The  Chronicles  of  Martin  Hewitt. 

By  A.  Morrison. 

192.  A    mnning    Hazard.      By   Mrs. 

Alexander. 

193.  The  Picture  of  Las  Cruces.    By  C. 

Reid. 

194.  The  Madonna  of  a  Day.    By  L. 

Dougall. 

195.  The  Riddle  Ring.    By  J.  McCar- 

thy. 

196.  A  Humble  Enterprise.    By  A.  Cam- 

bridge. 

197.  Dr.  Nikola.    By  G.  Boothbt. 

198.  An  Outcast  of  the  Islands.    By  J. 

Conrad. 

199.  The  King's  Revenge.    By  C.  Bkat. 

200.  Denounced.     By  J.  Bloundelle- 

Burton. 

201.  A  Court  Intrigue.     By  B.  Thomp- 

son. 

202.  The  Idol- Maker.    By  A.  Sergeant. 

203.  The  Intriguers.    By  J.  D.  Barry. 

204.  Master  Ardick,  Buccaneer.    By  F. 

H.  COSTELLO. 

205.  With  Fortune  Made.    By  V.  Cher- 

BULIEZ. 

206.  Fellow  Travellers.  By  G.  Travers. 

207.  McLeod  of  the  Camerons.    By  M. 

Hamilton. 

208.  The   Career  of  Candida.    By   G. 

Paston. 

209.  Arrested.    By  E.  Stuart. 

210.  Tatterley.    By  T.  Gallon. 

211.  A  Pirichbeck  Goddess.    By  Mrs.  J. 

M.  F'leming  (A.  M.  Kiplins). 

212.  Perfection  City.    By  Mrs.  Orpen. 

213.  A    Spotless    Reputation.      By   D. 

Gerard. 

214.  A  Galahad  of  the  Creeks.    By  S.  L. 

215.  The  Beautiful  White  Devil.     By  G. 

Boothby. 

216.  The  Sun  of  Saratoga.     By  J.  A. 

Altsheler. 

217.  Fierceheart,  the  Soldier.     By  J.  C. 

Snaith. 

218.  Mai-ietta's   Marriage.    By  W.    E. 

NORRIS. 

219.  Dear  Faustina.  By  R.  Broughton. 

220.  NUlma.  By  Mrs.  Campbell  Praed. 

221.  The  Folly  of  Pen  Harrington.     By 

J.  Sturgis. 

222.  A  Colonial  Free-Lance.    By  C.  C. 

HOTCHKISS. 

223.  His  Majesty's  Greatest  Subject,    By 

S.  S.  Thorburn. 


APPLETONS'   TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRARY.— (Co«i!m?<«(f.) 


234.  Mifanwy :  A  Welsh  Sitiger.    By  A. 
Sainb. 

225.  A  Soldier  of  Manhattan.    By  J.  A. 

Altsheler. 

226.  Fortune's    Footballs.     By    G.   B. 

BUBGIN. 

227.  The  Clash  of  Arms.   By  J.  Bloun- 

DELLB-BURTON. 

228.  God's  Foundling.    By  A.  J.  Daw- 

son. 

229.  Miss  Providence.    By  D.  Gerard. 

230.  The  Freedom  of  Henry  Meredyth. 

By  M.  Bamilton. 

231.  Sweethearts  and  Friends.    By  M. 

Gray. 

232.  Sunset.    By  B.  Whitby. 

233.  A  Fiery  Ordeal.    By  Tasma. 

234.  A  Prince  of  Mischance.  By  T.  Gal- 

lon. 

235.  A    Passionate    Pilgrim.      By    P. 

White. 


236.  This  Little  World.    By  D.  C.  Mur- 

ray. 

237.  A  Forgotten  Sin.    By  D.  Gerard. 

238.  The    Incidental    Bishop.     By  G. 

Allen. 

239.  The  Lake  of  Wine.    By  B.  Capes. 

240.  A  Trooper  of  the  Empress.    By  C. 

Ross. 

241.  Tm-n  Sails.    By  A.  Raine. 

243.  Matetfamilias.  By  A.  Cambridge. 

243.  John  of  Strathbourne.    By  R.  D. 

Chetwode. 

244.  The  Millionaires.  By  F.  F.  Moore. 

245.  The  Looms  of  Time.    By  Mrs.  H. 

Fraser. 

246.  The  Queen's  Cvp.  By  G.  A.  IIenty. 

247.  Dicky  Monteith.    By  T.  Gallon. 

248.  The  Lust  of  Hate.  By  G.  Boothby. 

249.  The  Gospel  Writ  in  Steel.    By  Ar- 

thur Paterson. 

250.  The  Widower.    By  W.  E.  Norris. 


"In  tills  laiire  collection,  especially  adapted  for  summer  readers,  the 
purchaser  can  hardly  make  a  mistake,  as  in  the  seiies  will  be  found  leading 
works  of  fiction,  written  by  leading  authors." — .New  York  Times. 

"  The  percentage  of  excellence  maintained  throughout  has  been  ex- 
traordinary. It  is  probably  within  bounds  to  say  that  no  other  list  of  legiti- 
mate fiction  can  show  so  many  names  of  the  first  rank  as  judged  by 
popularity.  From  time  to  time  in  this  manner  new  and  powerful  pens-  are 
introduced."  — Rochester  Herald. 

"The  red-brown  covers  of  '  Appletons'  Town  and  Country  Library ' 
have  come  to  be  an  almost  inevitable  sign  of  a  story  worth  reading.  .  .  . 
Not  a  poor  story  can  be  found  in  any  one  of  them." — Boston  Household. 

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cause it  is  fittest  to  do  so.  It  has  always  maintained  a  high  standard,  yet 
at  the  same  time  the  popular  quality  has  been  preserved.  It  has  been  re- 
markably successful,  and  the  secret  of  continued  success  lies  in  the  dis- 
crimination used  in  selecting  tales  that  are  clean,  pure,  and  withal  of 
interest  to  the  average  reader's  intelligence." — Burlington  News. 

"  The  red  volumes  of  '  The  Town  and  Country  Library'  .  .  .  are  well 
known  all  over  the  United  States,  and  it  is  uncommon  to  enter  a  drawing- 
room  car  on  a  railroad  train  without  seeing  two  or  three  of  them  in  hand  or 
strapped  in  the  wraps.  They  cover  the  best  English  fiction  outside  the 
magazines  and  the  novels  of  a  few  privileged  writers  who  make  special 
arrangements  with  special  publishers." —  Worcester  Gazette. 


D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY,  NEW  YOKK. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
864 


